Partners
by Ankhutenshi
Summary: Based on an LJ challenge, exploring the friendship between Jing and Kir. Series of 50 short stories. Currently completed: 30 of 50
1. Proportions

Author's Note:

These were originally written for a Livejournal community, 50themes, based on the Friendship category. Please don't try to read these in numeric order, they're meant to be read in the order they've been posted in. Most of these take place post-Twilight Tales, unless they're flashback shots. Enjoy!

Proportions  
_(Theme #2 - Bittersweet)_

"You're gonna get fat if you keep eating all that chocolate, Jing," Kir said reproachfully, watching his companion go looking for another paper-wrapped bar of candy.

The infamous Bandit King laughed. "No I won't, Kir. The Por Vora eat it all the time."

"Yeah, and they ain't exactly trim and fit, y'know what I'm sayin'?" Kir puffed himself up to the approximate proportions of the round Por Vora, making Jing laugh. "I don't even know why they eat so much of it, it ain't sweet."

"It's bittersweet," Jing explained. "It's a much higher quality of chocolate. Ah, here we go," he located a bar in the bottom of the knapsack and broke it in two. "You want half, partner, or are you watching your figure?"

"Gimme that," Kir muttered, swiping his portion.

There was silence for several moments as the two continued on their way, until the boy commented, "Although… you have been getting a little heavier during a Kir Royale --"

"**_JING!!"_**


	2. Graveyard Shift

Graveyard Shift  
_(Theme #3 - Technology)_

"Creepy," was Kir's comment as they crested the hill. On the path they'd followed for the last few days, strange debris littered the brush on either side. Other than cursory glances, they hadn't slowed much, but now looking down at the valley below, they felt rooted to the spot.

Huge machines, still as corpses, covered the valley floor. Some were darkened by rust, others by soot, and all of them were in such disrepair that no one would even consider salvage.

"Jing?" The albatross prompted, when the grey-eyed young man didn't move. "What's wrong?"

"It's strange, isn't it Kir?" The Bandit King said distantly, booted feet kicking up a trail of dust as he slid down the steep slope of the hill.

"What is?"

"How people leave things behind once they think they're useless."

Kir's talons clamped a little tighter on his companion's shoulder. "Where are we?"

"Just outside of Mandalay."

The bird frowned, no easy task with a beak. "I've never heard of it," he admitted.

"I'm not surprised," Jing answered, sliding to a halt at the bottom of the incline. "Nobody's lived here in a hundred years, not since the end of the war." His hands slipped into the deep pockets of his coat. "I can kind of see why. Even the land has given up on this place." He crouched down to grasp a fistful of the pale yellow grass that covered everything. It crumbled to dust when he closed his hand around it.

Kir craned his neck back to look up at the machines as Jing wove through them. "That's a lot of metal," he whistled. "Who won the war?"

"Nobody," His human companion answered. "Both sides just gave up."

"Why?"

Jing shrugged, sidestepping a giant wheel fallen from a nearby metal behemoth. "Guess they found something better to do with their time."

The albatross shivered. "Yeah, well... pick up the pace, partner. I don't want to be here after dark."

"Sorry, Kir... we have to cut through the valley to reach the pass on the other side. We're going to spend at least one night here." He rubbed the black feathers consolingly. "It's not so bad, is it? We're not moving in, after all."

"Jiiing..." Kir whined, sagging on his perch. "Fine, but... I ain't sleeping!"

---

That claim was proving difficult, however, as the bird watched the small fire flickering. Jing fed dead twigs, scrounged from the long grass, into the circle he'd cleared of underbrush. The orange light danced over the iron sides of the tall machinery that loomed overhead.

"What's wrong, partner?" The Bandit King asked, seeing that the bird had huddled in on himself.

Kir glanced up, then back at the fire, embarrased. "I don't like this place."

"I figured that much out Kir --"

"No Jing, I... I _really_ don't like this place. All I want to do right now is fly out of here fast as I can and never come back. All these machines... they're just not natural and... I don't like them."

Grey eyes showing kind concern, Jing extended an arm as an invitation, and after a moment, Kir jumped onto the familiar perch. They boy leaned back, stroking the sleek black feathers. "It's ok, Kir," he said quietly. "It bothers me too sometimes. All these things that people make, and then just discard? It makes me wonder... how long until it's not old machines they're throwing away, but other people?"

"Humans do that," Kir muttered. "What if you do that one day?"

"I won't," Jing answered. "I've got a best friend for a partner, and he wouldn't let me do something awful like that."

Kir gave a small grin. "Yeah... you're right."

The night passed quietly, and come dawn they made their way from the graveyard valley, both glad to leave it behind.

---

Notes:

**Mandalay** - Taken from the alcoholic beverage, _A Night in Old Mandalay_. _Ingredients:_ Light rum, Añejo rum, Orange juice, Lemon juice, Ginger ale, Lemon peel; _Directions:_ In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the light rum, añejo rum, orange juice, and lemon juice. Shake well. Strain into a highball glass almost filled with ice cubes. Top with the ginger ale. Garnish with the lemon twist.


	3. Bath

Bath  
_(Theme #4 - "What was that for?")_

Kir both loved and hated the beach: loved it for the beautiful women who pranced over the sand and swam in the water (all bikini-clad), and hated it because the same sand and seawater got into his feathers so deeply that he was sure nothing short of moulting would ever get it out again.

The bird flopped down onto the orange towel next to his partner, who was reclining with his hands behind his head and dark sunglasses over his eyes. "All these lovely ladies, and you're napping!" Kir laughed, exasperated. "Keep your eye on the prize, Jing!"

Grey orbs peeked over the edge of the shades, warm with amusement. "Hey Kir, your feathers are sticking out everywhere."

The albatross spluttered. "Can't look any worse than your hair! Haven't you ever heard of a comb? Didn't your -- heeeeeey!" Jing had upturned a bucket of cool, fresh water over the bird, sending the salt running in rivlets from black feathers. "AIYIYIYI!" Kir screeched, jumping up and down. "What was that for?!"

"Aww, look! How cute!" Two girls had apparently witnessed the exchange and hurried over, well-tanned attributes bouncing with each step. "Poor little guy, you're all wet! Come with us, we're going sunbathing, and you can dry off with us!"

Hearts once more in his eyes, Kir decided he loved the beach. Jing smirked and went back to his nap. 


	4. Ambience

Ambience  
_(Theme #5 - "Rumors")_

"Oy, Jing," Kir said one day, as they sauntered down a street in the city of Curacao. "How come you always know so much about all the treasure we steal?"

"Would you rather be unprepared, Kir?" Jing chuckled.

"You know what I mean!" The albatross huffed. "You know stuff that I've never even heard of. Does this come in a book somewhere?"

"Nope," the Bandit King smiled. "You just need to listen more, partner." He waved a hand at the busy plaza around them. "Come on, I'll show you."

He wove his way through the crowd to the fountain, and jumped up onto the narrow stone ledge surrounding it. People gave him curious glances, but most went about their business as though it was nothing unusual. His arm lifted in a way that Kir recognized as a silent invitation, and the bird alighted on the offered perch.

"What do you hear?" Jing asked.

"People," Kir answered flatly. "Lots of people, yappin' away."

The boy's laugh was kind. "You're not listening close enough. Every word is part of a story, Kir, and stories exist to be told… they want to be shared."

"You're a strange human, you know that."

"Maybe," Jing twirled in a circle, keeping his balance on the stone rail with ease. "Listen, and tell me what you hear."

With a sigh, the bird decided to humour his companion, although he wasn't sure what this had to do with any treasure. He closed his eyes and tried to distinguish anything useful from the chatter surrounding them.

_"... yesterday the baker's goods were burnt..."  
"... heard a noise in the parlour..."  
"... can't find my pet, looked everywhere..."  
_  
"They're just talkin', Jing," Kir said, exasperated. "Normal stuff. Not a thing about anything important!"

The Bandit King grabbed the albatross out of the air, ignoring the squawk, and clasped the bird against his chest. Kir struggled a bit, simply out of indignation, but fell quiet and sighed, listening to Jing's heartbeat.

"You see, Kir, they're telling you so much... they're nervous and edgy... they want to know what's going on. Something's got them very distracted."

_"... claw marks in my flower bed..."  
"... like something was watching me yesterday..."  
"... my laundry shredded in the yard..."_

"A creature?" Kir said hesitantly, and then his eyes lit up. "Oy! The riddle you mentioned earlier! The beast with ruby eyes and diamond teeth!"

"There you go," Jing said, eyes still closed; he jumped from the stone fountain without opening them, moving through the crowd by instinct alone. It wasn't until they'd reached an alley that he released his feathere's companion.

"For a human, you sure are a birdbrain," Kir said, shaking his head. "But I'm glad you are. Are we going?"

"Let's go!"

---

Notes:

**Curaçao** is a general term for orange-flavored liqueur made from the dried peel of bitter oranges found on the Caribbean island of Curaçao. Curaçao can be colored orange (known as Orange Curaçao or only Curaçao), blue (Blue Curaçao), green (Green Curaçao) or left clear (White Curaçao). All variants have the same flavor, with small variations in bitterness. Blue and green Curaçao are often used to provide color to mixed drinks.


	5. Hollow Comfort

Hollow Comfort  
_(Theme #7 - "Reunion")_

Some nights, when Jing thought that Kir was asleep, he would slip away to sit in the moonlight and look at the green-faceted gem that, all other nights, remained safely hidden in the pockets of his yellow coat. Sometimes he would talk to the jewel, in a low voice that didn't carry to the ear of his companion, but most nights he just sat quietly.

To Kir's knowledge, the gem never talked back.

The albatross knew that the sleeping woman's face inside the jewel was Jing's mother, but despite having been at Jing's side for nearly a decade, he knew little else about her. On the rare occasions when the Bandit King let slip a piece of information, it was in a moment when his guard was lowered.

Kir knew, for example, that she had liked apples, which made sense for explaining Jing's love of the fruit. But he had no critical information; he knew neither her name nor how she'd died, leaving Jing alone at the age of five.

He didn't pry, and for that, Jing would return from such nightly vigils and wrap his arms around the bird, seeking comfort until he fell asleep.

Jing might have treasured that green jewel, but Kir resented it. Not because of the attention it received, but because one day, it would do the impossible: steal away the Bandit King himself.

It had come close once before, the day Kir had hatched. He knew it was a stupid thing to feel hostile over, and tried not to let his human companion know his true feelings. Some nights it was harder, like tonight.

"I miss her," Jing said, the simple sentence almost lost beneath the crisp stars.

"I know," Kir answered, "You'll see her again one day."

And even though that promised reunion made Jing smile as he drifted off to sleep, Kir couldn't help but wish it never came to pass. 


	6. High Tariff

High Tariff  
_(Theme #8 - "Sword & Shield")_

Heavy footsteps pounded on the stone bridge above, orders shouted to locate the thief before he got away. The thief in question crouched silently in the shadows, using the sound of the splashing river to cover the winded breathing of himself and his partner. It had been a spectacular chase, and although his knapsack was now weighted with the jewel-encrusted goblet he'd been seeking, he was more worried about the wounded bird in his arms.

Kir's right wing hung from an awkward angle, bone protruding from the tertiary feathers. The last Kir Royale had triggered an explosion; the resulting blast had thrown them both through the wall, and the force of it had snapped one of the wings locked into place for the attack. The albatross' blood felt sticky on the boy's hands.

"We might have overdone it a bit," Jing said, trying to distract the bird's attention while he ran his fingers over the wing to assess the damage. Although he was trying to be gentle, Kir still jerked, pulling away instinctively.

"Please try to keep still, Kir," the Bandit King winced. "I'll have to set the break."

"There's something to look forward to," Kir said hoarsely.

From his position, Jing scanned the area, his gaze settling on the wooden door which led to a business' cellar. With no guards currently in sight, he made a dash for the building, and with a swipe of his blade, the lock hit the ground. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. There were a few barrels and crates pushed up against the wall, which he walked to and sat.

Kir sagged limply in his arms, right wing trailing, and Jing worried his lower lip. _The break is serious. If I don't set it correctly, it won't heal straight..._

"Jing?" The bird raised his head at the silence, eyes dull.

"Yeah." The grey-eyed youth shifted Kir to one arm and shrugged off his coat, laying it on the crates before placing his feathered companion as gently as possible on top. "Hang on for me, I'm going to look for something to bind this with."

Jing moved through the room, exploring as much by touch as by sight, and found in one corner, a pile of cotton sacks. Prying open one of the crates produced ancient bottles of forgotten alcohol, and armed with his makeshift supplies, he arranged them on the ground and began unbuckling the blade's arm-brace, freeing his movement. "I'm sorry partner," he said, "but this is probably going to hurt a lot."

"Hurts already," Kir groaned.

Pulling the cork free of the bottle, Jing mumbled another apology before dousing the wing with alcohol. Kir thrashed; it burned even as it cleansed the wound. Before he could pull away, he felt two hands firmly grasp his wing. The world flared hazy and white as the two halves of the bone were forced back together... then nothing.

---

Kir wasn't sure how much time passed before he woke again, but the screaming pain in his wing has dulled to a tolerable throb, and he was wrapped in something warm and soft. He swallowed, tasted whiskey in the back of his throat, and coughed. "Jing?"

A rustle off to his left, and his human companion sat down on the crate next to him. "You're awake... I was hoping you'd sleep longer, you need the rest. How do you feel?"

"Bit better," Kir acknowledged, although it hurt to talk. "S'there water? M'throat's... so dry..."

Jing leaned forward to pull the waterskin from his backpack, and Kir was shocked to see that the youth's arms were covered with deep gashes. "Y'said... you were okay... when we were leaving... the palace... I asked you if --"

"Kir," Jing smiled wearily. "You made these ones."

The albatross stared, not comprehending. "I didn't... I wouldn't --"

"It's okay, partner," the Bandit King interrupted. He eased Kir into his lap, holding the skin so he could drink. Once the bird had swallowed some of the liquid, he continued to explain. "It was while I was fixing up your wing. Even after you were unconscious, it was still hurting you, and you were fighting back without knowing it. You clawed me a couple of times, that's all. It's not your fault, so don't worry about it."

Kir shifted guiltily, obviously not convinced by Jing's easy dismissal of the injuries, and craned his neck to regard his wing, now neatly bound in strips of cotton. "Thanks... it does feel better. Why do I taste whiskey?"

"I hoped it'd dull the pain and make you sleep," Jing said simply, although relief was visible on his face when the wing was examined. "I haven't heard the guards in a couple hours... maybe they've given up."

"We can hope," Kir said wryly. "What did we blow up, anyway? I didn't see any Por Vora in there..."

"Oil barrels," the Bandit King said, obviously chagrined. "That's what they had stacked in the corners, under the tarps... we hit one and they all went up."

After a moment, they both began to laugh.

---

Jing snuck them out of the city the following night. They laid low for a few weeks while Kir's wing mended, wandering through Aquavitae as spring melted into summer. Although the human didn't mention them, Kir felt uncomfortable with the gashes on Jing's arms, and was infinitely relieved when they faded to scars and then disappeared altogether.

"Ready, partner?" Jing asked one morning, as they sat on the banks of the Boricua River. "I'll take these bandages off."

The cotton strips were unwrapped one at a time, though he was ready to stop if Kir seemed at all hurt by it. Although the feathers beneath were matted slightly, the leading edge of the wing appeared straight. Kir flexed it cautiously, then extended it to full length. Seeing the anxious look on his partner's face, he gave Jing a wide grin. "Good as new," he proclaimed.

The sheer relief that crossed Jing's face made him chuckle, and the albatross teased, "Hey now, what's that look for?"

"What do you mean, 'that look'? I was worried, Kir!" Jing looked momentarily indignant, but it faded and he sighed. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you..."

"Well for starters, you'd have to find someone else to do the Kir Roya--"

"Don't!" Jing said sharply. "Don't make jokes about that!"

Kir was taken aback by the vehement reaction, looking up at the black-haired youth, and then smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Jing. You know I didn't mean it. We're in this together, and besides, you can't get rid of me _that_ easily." He waited until a hint of a smile had found its way back to Jing's face, and then chuckled. "'Sides, no one else'd put up with you, eh?"

"Laugh it up, wise guy, and I'll wrap your beak up instead of your wing next time."

Things were back to normal.

---

Notes:

**Boricua** is a variant type of Screwdriver. _Ingredients:_ 1/4 Vodka (Finlandia or Absolut), 1/2 Orange juice, 1/4 Cranberry juice (Ocean Spray), Ice. _Mentions:_ Extremely important if you are goin to the beach (Puerto Rico), And nesesary if going to Culebra, Puerto Rico. 


	7. Celebrate

Celebrate  
_(Theme #9 - "Happy Ending")_

There was a definite bounce to Jing's step as they escaped the city limits into the western forest, setting a brisk pace into the deepening dusk. Once again, his knapsack was weighted with a legendary treasure, this time a pair of diamond shears said to be able to cut any material in the world.

Kir circled overhead, crowing their victory. "We did it, Jing! Did you see me blast those guards? And the way you disabled that trap, like wham-wham! And--"

The Bandit King laughed, high and free like a child, and jumped over a fallen log. "I was there, remember Kir?"

The albatross stuck a tongue out at the youth and then settled onto his shoulder. "We should celebrate!" he announced.

"Celebrate?"

"Yeah! Let's hit a city, rent an expensive room, and stay the night! Room service delivered by beautiful girls in maid uniforms!"

"Would that just be the perfect end to your night, partner?" Jing chuckled, ruffling the black feathers of his companion. "I suppose we can. Passoa isn't too far from here."

"WHOOHOO!"

---

Passoa was widely regarded as a place where wishes came true. Bursting with lavish hotels, expensive eateries, and a thousand eager pawnbrokers, the currency of the town was riches, pure and simple. The form of such was unimportant, as largely was their legality. In other words, they fit right in.

They checked into a hotel called The Grand Mariner, paid in gems, and were soon ushered into a luxurious suite overlooking the ocean. Kir comandeered the king-sized bed right away, flopping into the heap of pillows artfully arranged against the headboard.

"This is the life..." He sighed happily.

Jing smiled fondly, shedding his coat and unbuckling his arm-sword before pulling their latest aqqusition from his bag. The shears gleamed wickedly sharp in the lamplight as he handled them, switching them back and forth from one hand to the other, as though testing a weapon for balance.

"Oy," Kir said, his voice muffled by the pillows. "Don't go playing with those and cut yourself."

The Bandit King rolled his eyes. "For being an albatross, you sure can be a mother hen sometimes, partner." It took a moment for the statement to register, and then Kir spluttered. Jing laughed and poked the bird. "I'm only teasing. I'll be careful, I promise. But you know what? We could order sundaes."

"Sundaes! With cherries!"

"Two each!"

"And whipped cream!"

"And chocolate!"

The bird made a face. "You eat too much chocolate!"

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

Jing pounced on the bird with a mock-roar of indignation, but Kir was quick to wiggle free and retaliate by blowing a raspberry at the youth. That prompted a wrestling match which soon had them both rolling across the bed, until they were laughing too hard to continue.

And later, sated on ice cream and victory, Kir snoring softly in the crook of his arm, Jing thought sleepily that it wasn't the treasure that had made this night perfect.

---

Notes:

**Passoã** is a liqueur made from passion fruit juice. It is best served on the rocks, or mixed with chilled orange or grapefruite juice.


	8. In Absentia Memoriam

In Absentia Memoriam  
_(Theme #15 - "Lost")_

There was silence on the cliff, broken only by the flapping of yellow material in the wind and the clinking of chains. Yet even these sounds were muted by the heavy fog which cut the two opponents off from the rest world as they faced each other down. The only things visible were the stars, high overhead.

"Give up, boy," the bounty hunter called. "You've run yourself into a dead end."

Grey eyes flicked to the sound of the river far below, then back at the large man. Blood had begun to stain the white spiral on his shoulder, and he'd have been annoyed if he hadn't felt so serenely calm. "It would seem so."

"No prey can escape Tonic," the man answered, equally placid. "Yet you ran well. What did you do with that animal of yours?"

The youth smiled and said nothing. He'd gained enough of a lead on his pursuer to hide the unconscious albatross in a small cave where he'd be safe before fleeing again. Yet he hadn't counted on the wholly unfamiliar territory, and hadn't seen the cliff until he'd almost walked over the edge. His adversary had caught up to him before he could find an alternate route.

The bounty hunter scowled when there was no response, and then shrugged. "It does not matter. Now, are you going to come quietly, Bandit King?"

His target shook his head, and the man frowned reproachfully. "Children never know when to admit they've been bested by their elders," he muttered, advancing. The long iron chains jangled as they dragged across the rocky ground. The smaller one took a step towards the edge of the cliff; small pebbles were dislodged by the movement and went clattering down the steep face of the cliff.

"This is not the future I've changed my past to be," the youth said simply, and closing his eyes, leaned back into open air.

A blur of black feathers flashed just over Tonic's shoulder, and Kir's talons latched onto the sleeve of the yellow coat. Jing's eyes snapped open, and time seemed to slow as the two locked gazes; one scared and the other only mildly puzzled.

Recovering from his shock, Tonic cursed, dashing forward, hand outstretched --

"Jing," Kir said desperately. "Stop..."

But gravity did not obey, and as the mass of the boy proved greater than the strength of the bird, the sleeve tore. Jing plunged silently down through the haze and disappeared, and with a cry, Kir dove after him.

Tonic's grasp caught only air, and he pounded the edge in frustration, scowling fiercely... it would take him hours to navigate the tricky path down to the bottom of the cliff into the gorge below. He weighed his options as he stood; could the boy have survived such a fall? Even if he'd been lucky enough to land in the river, the current would have carried him through the rapids. There was a good chance he'd find the body floating in the lake a few miles away. He decided to head there once the sun was up... there was always a chance someone would pay for the corpse of the infamous Bandit King.

---

He'd lost him.

The fog, Kir discovered, was mostly due to the fact that the river was icy cold. The haze extended almost to the water's surface, and the bird pulled up just shy of having dived in headfirst. He scanned the water frantically, searching for a glimpse of yellow. "Jing? Jing!"

No answer made its way to him, although he crisscrossed the wide river for hours until he was hoarse. There was simply no sign of his human companion that could be found in the dark water. Finally, wings aching, Kir settled on a dead branch on the shoreline to wait for first light.

---

Dawn brought with it a frail attempt to burn off the low-lying mist which cloaked the area. It was marginally better than the blackness of the night before, and Kir shook his wings free of dew and took off. He was cold, with a feeling that had nothing to do with the temperature, and the shredded piece of coat he'd torn accidentally was still clenched in his talons.

It didn't take him long to spot the small white knapsack, its straps caught in the protruding roots from one of the trees on the bank. The albatross wrestled it free and checked the contents, specifically for the long green gem; it was still inside. "You're here," Kir muttered. "Now where is he?"

The gem had no answer.

_There's no reason to worry,_ Kir told himself, trying to banish the doubt and guilt which had lodged inside of him. _Jing knows what he's doing. He wouldn't have gone over the edge if he didn't know a way to get down safely. It was just a ploy to throw that Tonic guy off our trail for a while..._

"Jing? Where are you? Jing!" The bird flew low over the rapids, dodging rocks where they thrust up out of the water and were crashed against by the force of the river. He followed it until he came to a lake, pushed up against the face of another cliff, this one much higher than the last. The water was choppy, which made sense given the turbulence of the river flowing into it.

Something yellow floated near the shore.

He dropped the knapsack carelessly on the shoreline and snagged the material, beating his wings against the still air to lift it up. The coat was empty, but so waterlogged and heavy that it may as well not have been. Kir managed to tow it back to shore where he could get a better look at it. In addition to the slashed sleeve -- _that bounty hunter had been awfully damned fast, and Jing had been lucky to escape with only a gash rather than losing his arm_ -- the coat was nearly shredded, ripped in many other places from the treacherous course through the rapids.

Kir looked around, scanning the shore, but his partner was no where to be found. "_Jing!_ Answer me!"

The more he called, the worse he felt.

---

It was Postino who suggested he check the village on the other side of the mountain, for which Kir appreciated since he hadn't known there was one nearby. The fact that Postino had come to the shore of the lake, which was nowhere near a road, remained unspoken because the albatross wasn't sure what to make of it. For three days he'd been waiting, too fearful of missing some rustle of leaves or the snapping of a twig, and so he hadn't slept. The deliveryman must have taken pity on him, because Kir got a ride on the back of the motorcycle, and Postino's mailbag was empty.

The town was less than reputable, this Blavod, but seemed to function well enough as the day progressed. Kir checked the doctor's office, but no one had been admitted with any unusual injuries, and no one had seen any unfamiliar faces in the town. Out of desperation, he stopped a few random people on the street, but they only shooed him away and went about their business.

Two more days passed.

---

It had been purely by chance that he'd heard the voice, but the rush of relief it brought left him almost lightheaded (or was it the exhaustion? he hadn't been able to sleep in days) and he arrowed for it without a second thought.

The young man was just picking himself up from the ground in front of the barn, where he'd apparently fallen out of the hayloft above. He raised his hand and made a rude gesture at the trio of scruffy faces still smirking down at him. One of them called down, "Too bad you lost the bet! Are you going to run off and cry to Lady Cello (2) or stick it out?"

The loft door slammed shut.

It didn't matter that the scene he'd just witnessed didn't fit. All the mattered was that his partner was _alive_ and _here_ and Kir latched onto the black shirt with such force that the youth was thrown off balance and sat down hard on the ground.

"What the--?"

"You're awful!" Kir cried, voice cracking slightly as he beat one wing against the side of the boy's head. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been, you big jerk? And you're laughing it up with your new friends! If you ever do something like this again, I'm outta here! You hear me? End of contract! I'm not fooling around!" He finally looked up, expecting to see relief and hopefully chagrin in Jing's eyes... but instead, saw only uncertainty and a bit of fear.

"Jing?" Kir asked, wondering if his words had been taken too seriously. Jing should know he'd never carry out any of those threats...

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought..." The boy brought a hand to his temple with a wince. "Now I'm seeing talking animals."

Kir stared, speechless. _He's just teasing me..._ his mind insisted weakly. _He'll laugh, any minute now..._ With much less brashness in his tone than normal, he prompted, "Jing?"

The boy clapped his hands over his ears. "Stop talking! Birds don't talk!"

"Stop acting stupid!" Kir exploded, hitting him again. Despite this, his voice had gained a faint edge of hysteria, and his vision blurred. "This isn't funny, Jing!"

"I don't know any Jing! My name is Rye!"

The sheer absurdity of the statement, combined with his lack of sleep and overall frayed nerves, left Kir to chuckle in a manner that suggested unsteady sanity. It gradually developed into full laughter, as the youth looked on in morbid fascination.

_Oh hell,_ Kir thought, and having reached the limit of his endurance for the moment, passed out.

---

The albatross slept for several hours, dead to the world, although when he work he only felt marginally better. _What an awful nightmare,_ Kir groaned, shaking straw from his feathers. _Wait... straw?_

He looked around, noting that he appeared to be in a dark barn, in an empty stall to be precise. His mind reeled; had it not been a dream? He spread his wings, ready to begin his search (once more, why did he have to keep searching?) when the creaking of the barn door and an orange light caught his attention. It approached, and he tensed, and when the lantern was raised, he saw a familiar curious face in the backwash of light. "Jing?" he asked hopefully.

The grey-eyed boy's expression fell, and he hung the lantern on a metal hook before sitting down on the straw next to the bird. "Aw, man... I was hoping you'd wake up and y'know... not be able to talk any more."

Kir recoiled as though struck, not sure he could deal with another round of this behavior. It _hurt_, dammit, seeing his partner act so cruelly towards him... but cruel wasn't the right word. _Unfamiliar._ "What's happened to you?" he asked, almost more to himself than the human.

The boy shrugged uncertainly, apparently not sure whether the question had been intended as rhetorical or not. "Don't make too much noise, or Lady Cello will hear you," he advised, then wrinkled his nose, "And I'll have to do _more_ chores. I just finished the ones I had to do because I lost that bet." He flopped down on the pile of straw. "And they cheated, too."

"Chores?" Kir repeated, as though testing the idea; it didn't mesh, because Jing did chores about as well as he cooked, which was not at all.

"Yeah, chores. You think I live here for free? Lady Cello's got the biggest stables in all of Blavod."

Faint desperation colored the insistent tone, "You don't live here, Jing."

"Rye. My name's Rye, bird."

"D-Don't call me that," Kir snapped, hurt. "My name's Kir -- you know that!"

The youth rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow to regard the albatross. "All I know is you're really weird, and you've mistaken me for someone else... your master, maybe? If you can talk, you're probably some rich person's pet or something. Aren't they going to want you back at some point?"

It was too much.

With a frustrated cry, Kir spread his wings and flew out of the barn, wondering if he flew far enough, he'd somehow get back in time to before this whole mess happened. _It's my fault! I should have pulled him back from the cliff... and I couldn't._ Guilt twisted inside him, but he kept flying until he'd reached the spot where Postino had dropped him off, and found the coat and bag exactly where he'd left them.

Determined to make one last attempt, Kir retrieved the white knapsack and flew back to the barn. The boy had since curled up in the straw with a blanket and gone to sleep, but the albatross landed and jumped up and down on his back until he sat up, scowling.

"Not you again! What do you want now?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Shut up," Kir said roughly. "Just... shut up and listen for a few minutes, okay?" When the youth reluctantly nodded his consent, the bird took a steadying breath. "Your name is Jing... we've known each other for a long time now, almost ten years. We're _partners_," he added earnestly, looking hopefully up at the black-haired one for some sign of recognition. When there was none, he dug the green gem out of the knapsack and pushed it into the boy's hands.

"C'mon, Jing, you _have_ to remember! Living in Amarcord, and your mom... and Cassis! Don't you remember Cassis? And Clove and Pomme and Mint? You had an accident, Jing, and you must've lost your memory, that's the only explanation. But the accident... it was my fault and I'm sorry, but you fell off a cliff --"

"A cliff?!"

Kir continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "--'cause we were being chased by that Tonic guy, and I've been looking for you for the last week and I've been going out of my mind and now... and now you're acting like this." His stopped to catch his breath, which hitched, and looked down at the straw. "So... quit it, Jing. Please? This ain't funny anymore..."

Silence.

The boy didn't speak for so long that Kir almost risked a glance up to see if he'd gone back to sleep, but then he felt an uncertain pat on top of his head, and the boy said awkwardly, "Uhh... there, there. Look, if... if you don't have anywhere else to go, you can stay here tonight, okay?"

The albatross slumped, snatching back the green gem and stuffing it into the knapsack so that he wouldn't have to look up. He didn't know what else to do, and as the boy rolled over and went back to sleep, he could do little else but follow suit.

Jing -- or Rye, as he'd insisted -- had said birds shouldn't be able to talk. They shouldn't be able to cry, either, but Kir managed admirably.

---

Days blurred into a week, then two. To Kir's despair, Jing -- for he couldn't think of him by the name Rye -- seemed genuinely happy in this simple life, coming back from his chores in the stables with a tired smile every night to fall into a dreamless, untroubled sleep. Although he didn't seem eager to converse with the bird, he also didn't evict him from the barn, which was a mixed blessing since Kir had nowhere to go.

Yet watching the young man, day after day, in a life he knew wasn't his own...

_I've lost him... I want my partner back... he's my best friend..._

---

One chilly morning, Kir was awakened by shouting from the stable yard. The shrill scream of an angered stallion cut through the air, followed by shouts. _"A doctor! Get the doctor!"_ He flew to the doorway, shocked to see a cluster of people working to calm the fighting animal... and Jing in a heap on the ground, being narrowly missed by the wildly flailing hooves.

He didn't think twice, but flew straight for the horse, yelling. "Get outta here! Scram!" The horse reared and struck out at him with its hooves, but Kir dodged easily. "Back off! Beat it! Get lost! Leave my Jing alone, you--!"

The other stable hands tried to wrestle the creature under control, but the reins were pulled free and then the horse was bolting across the courtyard, with the whole contingent of frantic people running after it. Two of the boys were ordered back, however, and grudgingly dragged their unconscious workmate back to the stall which served as his bed.

Kir fidgeted nervously as the doctor checked the youth over. "He's all right, ain't he?"

The doctor, a wizened elderly man, _tsk'd_ and set about cleaning the gash on the youth's forehead. "Oh, he'll be just fine. No lasting damage here, looks like he just caught the edge of the hoof. Probably won't even be a scar to worry about, although that'd give the ladies something to coo over, wouldn't it?" He laughed to himself at the attempted joke, then placed a small bandage over the cut and stood, brushing straw from his pants. "I'll make sure to tell Lady Cello to give this nice young man a day or two on light duty."

After the doctor had exited the barn, Kir settled himself into the small nest he'd made in the corner of the stall. Unlike Jing, _Rye_ didn't like him sleeping too close, and the bird had obliged the wish with a heavy heart. Tucking his head under one wing, Kir thought, _I wish... I wish everything could be back the way it was..._

---

Several hours passed before the young man stirred, a groan issuing from him as he tried to open his eyes to focus on the wooden rafters high above. Kir raised his head at the sound -- he'd been too stressed to sleep -- and said wryly, "Bet you've got a hell of a headache, huh?"

Another groan. "What happened?"

Kir fluffed his feathers, a reproachful tone coloring his words. "You were kicked in the head. By a horse, of all things. I suppose this sort of thing was inevitable, living in a barn and all--"

"I don't remember a horse..."

"-- I mean, isn't it pretty likely that some horse comes home, drunk one night, and wanders into the wrong stall? It could happen, you know, horses ain't exactly the smartest bunch of--"

The boy flopped onto his back with a wince. "Stop talking, partner, my head feels like someone's using it for a drum..."

_Partner...?_ Kir stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching. _Did he just...?_ Hardly daring to believe, he asked, "... Jing?"

The grey-eyed boy sat up, looking as though he couldn't fathom why the albatross' voice had become so hesitant and small and _hopeful_. "What? What's the matter, Kir?"

And he was struck speechless as the bird suddenly latched onto him, talons and all, with a relieved cry. Jing hugged him back instinctively, unsure what could have prompted such a reaction, and when he asked, the albatross only answered, "You're back and I missed you, can we go now please?"

---

Jing listened silently as Kir recounted the events of the past three weeks. Although some parts prompted flashes of images in his mind, the intervening time remained largely a gaping blank to him. But he never once doubted the veracity of the near-impossible tale; one look at his companion, who seemed almost harrowed by the ordeal, and he knew it was all true.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he didn't know what else to say. "But... thank you."

Kir looked uncertain. "For tellin' you what happened?"

"No, Kir... for staying." Jing looked down at Blavod, the lamps on the streets just being lit for the evening. "I wasn't even _me_ anymore, and you still stayed... you didn't leave. Thank you for that."

"Rye's an awful name for you, you know. Doesn't suit you at all. But still..." The bird looked down, almost seeming ashamed of his observations. "You seemed like you were really happy, you know? I mean... you didn't remember any of the bad stuff that happened, when you were young. You were just... happier."

Jing gave Kir a smile, and got to his feet. "They say ignorance is bliss, don't they? Even if I seemed happy... it wasn't me. And even if this life isn't as simple as that one, I still wouldn't change a thing. Whatever happened to Tonic, though?"

"Dunno," Kir said. "He just disappeared. You think we've seen the last of him? Maybe he thinks you're dead."

"Well, I guess we'll have to make headlines again, just to prove him wrong, eh partner?"

The bird sighed, exasperated, as they left Blavod behind. "Yeah, you're definitely back."

---

Notes:

**Blavod** (blah-VOD) is a premium quality vodka from the U.K. The only difference from regular vodkas is that it is black. The black color is 100 natural and come from a little-known Burmese herb by the name of Black Catcheu. Like regular vodkas, Blavod has no smell or taste, and even if it is black it will not stain your tongue, teeth, or clothing. _Alcoholic content:_ 40.0 (80-proof).

**Lady Cello**: _Ingredients:_ 1 oz Limoncello, 1 oz Rum, 1 tsp Grenadine, 1/2 oz Lemon juice, Sugar. Shake with ice and pour into a sugar and Limoncello rimmed highball glass. Garnish with a cherry. To coat rim of glass, first dip in Limoncello, then in a bowl of sugar.


	9. Precocious

Precocious  
_(Theme #30 - "Dry Your Tears")_

They'd taken his coat and his boots, the bastards, and locked them in a cabinet where he couldn't reach. The young boy hadn't listened to their explanations, their stern warnings and false sympathies. He knew only this: that they'd told him he couldn't go back home, and when he'd run back to the only other place he'd known they'd come after him. _You can't stay there anymore. There's no one there to take care of you now._

Seven times in three days he'd escaped their clutches and bolted for the forest, only to be dragged back, kicking and fighting. _One day, I'll be so fast they'll never catch me. I'll go wherever I want, and I won't let anybody lock me up._

From his hiding place behind the woodshed, a soft noise captured his attention. He raised ashen eyes to glare sullenly at one of the adults, surely come to collect him once more, but instead there was a heart-shaped face peeking around the corner at him. Long strands of blonde hair escaped the worn baseball cap, and turquoise eyes peered curiously at him.

He scowled. "What do you want?"

"You're the one making all the trouble, aren't you?" The voice, although female, was accusatory. "The Aunties are very mad at you."

"I don't care if any of those stupid adults are mad! They don't know anything! I'm not supposed to be here!"

"You shouldn't yell." The girl approached him, a wooden bat nearly as tall as she slung over one shoulder. "If you're here it's because you don't have a home, that's all."

"I do have a home!" In a split second, ash had turned to steel in the boy's eyes. "You don't know anything either!"

"What's your name?" The blonde asked, sitting down next to him; he glared at her, obviously not welcoming the company. _Couldn't she take a hint?_ She drew her knees up to her chest to match his position. "And what's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing," he shot at her, too quickly. She blinked sea green eyes and waited, and he muttered, "...It don't work, that's all. Never has."

"Let me see," she said, tugging his elbow. Hoping she'd be frightened, he allowed her to see the half-closed fist. It was almost colorless, and chilled to the touch. "It's cold," She said in surprise, and before he could stop her, felt the length of his arm. "But just the hand..."

"Who _are_ you?" he exclaimed, annoyed; he pulled his hand back and set it in his lap. He missed his coat, which had an inner pocket he could rest the limb in so it was neither so obvious nor tiring to support. "Just... go away!"

"My name's Cassis," she answered. "What's yours?"

"Jing, now get lost!" Without warning, a sharp pain across the back of his head caused him to yell; the bat had left her shoulder and connected with his skull. "OW! What was that for?!"

"You shouldn't be so mean!" Cassis glared stoutly at him. "You're supposed to be nice when someone's nice to you, especially a girl, got it?"

Jing stared. She brandished the bat warningly, but he wasn't looking at that. Instead, he was focused on the hopefulness hidden behind determination in her eyes. They really were pretty eyes, faceted almost like a bright gem --

"Onee-chan?" A voice much smaller than his own interrupted his train of thought, and he jerked around to see three younger faces. Cassis got to her feet and went to the boys, taking their hands. "Who's this?"

"This is Jing," Cassis said, smiling, his earlier yelling incident already forgiven and forgotten.

One of the boys -- he'd learn later, of course, that it had been Clove -- approached him with a shy expression, and Jing found that despite his current wish to be left alone, he couldn't snap at the other child. Clove looked up at him with the same hopefulness that Cassis had, and asked, "Aniki?"

_Aniki...?_

And Jing realized that unlike the adults, they could understand what was important, and that made all the difference. He couldn't _trust_ them, at least not right away, but they wouldn't try and keep him from what still remained most dear to his heart.

"Aniki?"

"Yeah," Jing scrubbed at the traitorous moisture that had formed in the corner of his eyes and got to his feet. "Hey... you guys wanna help me get some stuff back?"


	10. Homecoming

Homecoming  
_(Theme #47 - "Deja Vu")_

"Oy, Jing," Kir said one morning, after he'd woken to find a faint smattering of frost on his feathers after a sudden plunge in temperature the night before. "You decided what we're going to do this winter? Where're we goin', huh?"

"I'm not sure yet," Jing answered, although he pulled his yellow coat tighter against the chill before retrieving his knapsack. "But I've been thinking of..."

"Amarula? Galliano? Coco Oco?"

"Thinking about Mimosa again?" Jing smiled despite himself.

Kir feather's fluffed up slightly, signifying embarrassment. "You said you'd stop teasing me about that," he muttered.

"Sorry," the Bandit King replied immediately, although his tone lacked a certain contriteness. "Actually, I've been thinking about spending it at... in Amarcord."

Kir didn't miss the slight hesitation, nor the altered phrasing. But he did not comment on it, and instead only said neutrally, "Oh?"

"We don't have to," Jing said hurriedly, as though he were chagrined at having suggested it. "If you'd rather--"

"No, it's okay," the albatross took his usual perch and gave his human partner an encouraging smile. "It's been a while since we've been back there, hasn't it? It'll be a nice change."

Jing nodded hesitantly, and the plan was made.

---

The region of Amarcord never seemed to change. It couldn't be called a _cheerful_ place, although there were certainly more sinister surroundings to be had in Aquavitae, but there was something dark about it. To the traveling pair, however, it spoke only of home. Ancient summer days filled with grassy fields and laughter, long since withered away. Familiar roads passed until booted feet, until they came upon the town of Balalaika, central to Amarcord.

"Looks the same, doesn't it?" Jing commented, gazing at the steepled roofs that spiked into the afternoon sky.

"Yep," Kir answered, bobbing his head. "Kinda nice that way."

The Bandit King gave his feathered companion an unreadable look, but continued down the road that would branch to run both towards the village, and also the winding path that would lead up the hill towards the forest.

"You okay with coming here?" Kir asked quietly, when Jing paused at the crossroads.

"I don't want to go into town yet," Jing answered, almost inaudible.

"Then let's not," the albatross responded casually. "The house probably needs to be aired out first anyway, y'know?"

---

Jing stood under the oak tree at the edge of the clearing and regarded the small wooden house across from him. Sunlight dappled the front door, which was shut tightly against any of nature's intrusions, as were the shutters. The house looked somewhat standoffish that way, which didn't suit it at all. He knew the house, knew the interior and exterior with fanatical detail, every nook and cranny and nail worked loose by time and the elements. But the small details that were supposed to personalize the building were missing.

The young man settled a hand on the door's wooden handle, and when he pushed it open, it swept inside dirt and leaves as well. He felt Kir's talons tighten reassuringly on his shoulder, and he appreciated the comfort as he stepped inside his house. With the shutters drawn, only the outlines of the table and chairs were visible, but since he never moved things around, he knew precisely where each obstacle was. The hearth sat dark and empty, the scent of burnt pine still lingering in the corners of the main room.

"Welcome home, eh Kir?" Jing said, and although his voice was barely above a whisper, it seemed too loud for the otherwise silent room. The albatross shifted a little, hearing the conflicting emotions in the young man's voice and sympathizing.

"You okay?" Kir asked cautiously.

"That's the second time you've asked me that."

"Because you've got me worried, Jing."

The Bandit King finally tore his gaze away from the empty room and gave the bird a small smile; slightly pained by memories but honest. "Sorry. I'm okay, really. It's just been a while, that's all. Let's get some of these shutters open so we can see, hmm?"

---

It took them about an hour to get all the windows open; many of them had been sealed shut during the winter season. _Has it really been eight months since I've been here?_ Jing thought, as he dumped yet another armful of dead leaves outside and took up the broom again, sweeping the dust past the threshold. "Kir? Can you check the lamps? We probably need oil." Kir flew to the glass lamps set on the shelves, and after a moment, announced, "Two are empty and one's almost empty. We don't have any oil in the cellar?"

"I think we used it all last time."

The bird harrumphed, and began a shopping list. "We're gonna need more than just oil, Jing. Most of the supplies are running low."

Jing sighed. He hadn't wanted to go into town on the first day back, but it was looking more and more unavoidable. At least if they wanted to eat breakfast tomorrow morning.

---

Jing was stalling, Kir realized, although he was hiding it admirably well by using housecleaning as an excuse. The small abode was now nearly pristine, all traces of dust and time swept back outdoors. He had to admit, it looked quite homely once more. It was just a shame that Jing would never see it as such again.

"So, everything up to snuff?" he inquired, as he and Jing flopped down onto the ancient couch, which creaked in protest.

The grey-eyed young man smiled. "Sure, Kir. You don't think a little hard work is good for you?"

"It's good for my appetite," the bird smirked. "So how about we go get one of those pies in town?"

"Sweet potato pie," Jing said wistfully. "And pumpkin pie."

"And cider," Kir added, beaming.

"With cinnamon," the youth agreed, putting his hands behind his head. "And sugar bread."

"With jam."

"The good kind, with chunks of fruit--"

"Argh, now I'm starvin'!" Kir spread his wings. "Let's go, let's go!"

---

Balalaika cast long shadows in the dusk, interspersed with the orange glow of the streetlamps just being lit. Kir noticed that Jing didn't hesitate at the crossroad this time, as though he'd come to some internal equilibrium about this place. It was a good thing to see, and though he wouldn't say so aloud, the albatross was relieved.

The cobbled streets were filled with the peaceful murmur of townsfolk. There were a few muted voices of surprise as people recognized his distinct yellow coat, but other than a few curious and evaluating glances, they were unaccosted.

"Thank you," Jing said, accepting two steaming bowls of stew and a box with two slices of pie from a street vendor. He put two gold coins on the counter, but the man merely turned away, disregarding the payment.

The Bandit King faltered slightly, then carried the meals to the plaza after leaving the coins where they sat. Kir was waiting eagerly on a long bench, but when he saw the look on Jing's face, he asked, "What's up? They run out of cider?"

"No, I... when I paid the vendor, he gave me a weird look and didn't take the coins." He divided the food between them and although Kir dug eagerly into his portion, Jing merely turned the bowl of stew back and forth in his hands, shoulders hunched slightly.

"Maybe it's like a welcome home gift," the albatross said between bites. "You _are_ kinda famous, after all."

"How ironic," Jing said softly, "Considering I come here to stop being famous for a while."

Kir paused in his meal, frowning, and scooted a bit closer to his companion's side. "Eat up before it gets cold, eh?"

Jing gave a small smile and did so.

---

Kir held the door open for Jing with one wing, as the young man currently was weighted down with two quarts of lamp oil in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. The expression of concentration on his face caused the bird to burst into laughter. "Oy, Jing, now that's just funny!"

"... What is?"

"You bein' able to steal stars and all, but can't go shopping without getting in over his head. You need help?"

"Oh, real funny," Jing grumbled, not noticing the look he was getting from the shopkeeper. "No, I'm fine with -- oh hell. I forgot our book, Kir."

"You did?" Perhaps it was a guilty pleasure, but both of them liked to read -- or rather, Jing liked to read and Kir liked to be read _to_. Choosing a new book from the tiny library in Balalaika was a habit they indulged in whenever they returned to Amarcord; it passed the quiet nights by the hearth peacefully. "You sure are bird-brained today! I'll go get it," the bird said, and spreading his wings, flew away.

"Thanks..." Jing called after him, adjusted the paper sacks in his arms, and stepped down to the cobblestone street just in time to collide with two much smaller bodies. His balance already compromised by the packages, he slipped and sat down hard, spilling apples across the street.

"Oww..." Two young boys, in slightly ragged looking clothes, were rubbing their heads in pain. "Basil, you were supposed to watch where we were going!"

"I was, Dill!"

Jing was struck by a wave of familiarity as he watched the two bicker. "Hey," he said, getting their attention. "Don't worry about it, no one's hurt."

They stopped their argument to look at him, scrutinizing him carefully, and Basil had just opened his mouth to say something when an stern female voice rang through the alleyway. "Boys? Are you down there?"

They looked at each other, cornered. "Crap! An Auntie!"

"In here," Jing said, pushing a loose brick in the alley wall to reveal a small tunnel, wide enough for the forms of the young boys. He smiled nostalgically and added, "It goes all the way to the bakery. See if Mrs. Apello has any extra cookies."

Delighted, both boys squirmed into the tunnel, and one of them whispered over his shoulder, "Thanks, mister!"

Jing let the tunnel close behind them and turned his attention back to the apples which had scattered, and began picking them up. _I think I prefer aniki to mister, though..._ He felt eyes upon him and straightened, raising his gaze to meet the elderly woman who was standing with her hands on her hips.

"Should I be surprised?" she asked.

"By what?"

"Don't get cheeky with me, young man," she said primly.

"Yes, Auntie," Jing replied automatically, and then blinked, surprised at himself. _Even after so long, I still do that...?_

The stern look on the elder's face softened into a smile. "It's good to see you've come back again. It's been a while, hasn't it?" When he did not answer, she continued kindly, "The people around here like it when you stop by."

"They don't," the Bandit King disagreed. "They act... so strange. Like they're wary of me."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "But could that be because you are equally suspicious of them?" Before he could open his mouth for a denial, she added, "It's all right, I suppose it's become natural for you now, hasn't it?"

Ash-coloured eyes lowered, and for a moment she wished they'd blazed in defiance like they used to; things really had changed. The woman approached him slowly, as though worried he might bolt, but he stayed rooted to the spot. Somehow she'd known that he would grow up to be tall, but now seeing him a head taller than herself, when she remembered an impudent little boy no higher than her hip, was still a shock.

"It _is_ good to see you again, Jing."

The Bandit King tried not to wince, but hearing an Auntie call him by name normally meant he was in trouble. Yet when he looked up, she only smiled fondly at him. "You haven't seen two little rascals around, have you? They're late for dinner."

"Nope," Jing lied without missing a beat.

"Of course not," The woman shook her head ruefully. "Well, I'll keep looking then. Take care, Jing."

"Goodbye, Auntie."

---

Later that night, after he and Kir had left Balalaika and returned to the house, after the oil lamps had been refilled and the supplies replenished, Jing lounged in his hammock. Kir was snuggled into his side, listening to Jing read from the book they'd taken from the library. The book talked about song and giants and empires, but Kir didn't listen so much to the individual words as the soothing flow of the voice reading it.

Jing finished a chapter and closed the book; Kir expected him to announce bedtime, but instead the young man said, "I talked to an Auntie today in town."

"Oh?"

"She said... I'm different now, that's why the people treat me oddly." Jing's eyes flickered with veiled emotion. "Is it true, Kir? Have I really changed that much?"

Kir looked at him, _really_ looked at him. Remembered the carefree child and contrasted it with the heavy-hearted young man before him now, who tried to smile like he used to but couldn't quite make it reach his eyes anymore.

And Kir would not lie. "You've changed a lot, Jing," he said truthfully.

Jing sighed, put the book aside, and reclined in the hammock which was also his bed. "I know. I know."

Nothing more was said on the subject, but Kir somehow doubted they'd spend all winter in Amarcord, and silently lamented that.

---

Notes:

**Amarula Cream** is a South African cream liqueur made from the fruit of the Marula tree, also known as Sclerocarya birrea or "The Elephant Tree", and cream. The fruit is fermented and then distilled in copper pot-stills. The marula liquor is then stored on small oak casks for two years before it is enriched with pure marula extract and blended with fresh cream. Amarula Cream is best served chilled, on the rocks or with crushed ice. It can also be used in desserts and cocktails. An opened bottle should be stored in a cool and dark place for no more than a year. In the USA Amarula can now be purchased from African Trading Company, AZ. **Galliano**, also known as Liquore Galliano, is a sweet, yellow Italian herbal liqueur. It is flavored with various herbs, flowers and spices, including anise, licorice and vanilla, giving it an unique taste. **Apello**: _Ingredients:_ 4 cl Orange juice, 3 cl Grapefruit juice, 1 cl Apple juice, 1 Maraschino cherry. Stir. Grnish with maraschino cherry.


	11. Negotiations

Negotiations  
_(Theme #12 - Forever Ours)_

There had been a tumble of limbs and relieved cries of _"Cassis-nee-chan! Aniki!"_ from the boys when they'd finally gotten back to the house. Cassis had given them all tight hugs and reassured them that she was fine, but Jing could hear a tremor in her voice.

"Can we stay here tonight, aniki?" Clove asked, but Cassis answered before he had a chance.

"We're going home tonight, Clove," she said with deceptively bright cheer. "The Aunties will be worried."

"They know we sleep here too," Pomme muttered, and Mint nodded agreement, but they all headed for the door anyway.

Jing caught Cassis' hand in his own newly released right one, and marvelled for a moment at how warm the skin felt. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, suspecting that the return to Balalaika was motivated less by the Aunties' worry and more by her desire to be safely within the town limits, safely in her bed where she would feel protected. Safe, but away from him. "I can take them back if you want to stay here."

Her turquoise eyes held his for a moment, and then she shook her head and smiled weakly. "It's all right," she squeezed his hand before pulling away and herding the boys out the door. "We'll see you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder, and then they were gone.

Silence reigned. Jing dragged a hand over his face and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, telling himself that there was no longer any reason to fear she'd be snatched away if she was out at night, restraining the urge to follow them because he'd get her bat upside his head if she ever thought he didn't think she could take care of herself and her charges. Cassis was like that.

"I liked the party bit better," a voice remarked from behind him, and Jing nearly leapt out of his skin, having forgotten for a moment that there was one more than usual present.

The boy turned to regard the scrawny bird sitting on the mantle. "Oh," he said, slightly surprised that the avian creature hadn't flown off. "You're still here?"

"So?"

Jing tilted his head. "Have you figured out what your name is supposed to be?"

The bird muttered under his breath, but shook his head. "I guess Kir ain't _too_ bad for a name, even if it is drawn out."

Jing got to his feet and approached the fireplace, looking up. "What kind of bird are you? A crow?"

"I'm an _albatross_," Kir said scathingly. "And what kind of human are _you_? You're pretty weird."

The child's grey eyes flickered, hurt, before they hardened in defiance. "I'm not weird," he retorted. "You're the weird one! How'd you do that to my arm?"

"Hey, it was your arm doing all that stuff all by itself!"

They glared stoutly at each other, unwilling to back down, until the clock interrupted them with its chime. A swirly-eyed cat figure popped out of the top with a loud meow to mark the late hour, and the sudden sound sent Kir launching off the mantle with a squawk of alarm. Jing suddenly found himself with an armful of feathers and a frantic heartbeat more suited to a hummingbird than an albatross.

"Hey, calm down," the boy said, concerned. "You okay?"

"M'fine," Kir muttered, but didn't seem too inclined to vacate his new position. "That's a stupid idea for a clock."

"... I like that clock."

"You would."

---

The bird snored.

Jing jammed his pillow over his head and groaned.

It was a long first night.

---

They didn't really speak again until breakfast the next day. Jing didn't really know what such birds ate, but he split his muffin and Kir seemed happy to receive his half, so he figured he couldn't be too picky. They sat on the doorstep, looking at the morning mist in the clearing.

"When is Cassis coming back?"

"After breakfast," Jing answered. "The Aunties always make them stay for breakfast first."

"Who are these 'Aunties' you keep talking about?" Kir asked.

Jing hesitated briefly, and then shrugged; still, the bird caught the pause and noted it with interest. "Aunties are the old ladies who run the orphanage."

"What's an orphanage?"

"It's... a place that kids go when they don't have any parents," Jing answered, kicking his feet off the edge of the step.

Kir appeared to mull that over, and silence returned. "How come you don't live there?" he asked, and then squawked when Jing turned on him furiously.

"'Cause I'm not an orphan!" he yelled, fingers digging into his palms. "I have my mom! She's just... not here with me any more..." His angry tone faded as fast as it had flared. Kir watched, somewhat fascinated, as the sudden fire banked itself and left once more a young boy sitting quietly on the wooden step, shoulders hunched slightly.

_Definitely a trigger point,_ Kir thought.

---

Cassis didn't come back that day.

Jing said it was probably because the Aunties had grounded them for staying out so late.

Kir decided he didn't have much trouble telling when Jing was lying.

---

"Your feathers are turning colours," Jing remarked the following morning. "They're getting darker."

"Really?" Kir craned his neck around in vaguely owl-like fashion. "Look at that! Guess I'm a black albatross, then."

"I didn't know albatrosses came in black."

Kir made a derisive noise. "Yeah, well, what do _you_ know? _You_ thought I was a crow."

Jing gave the bird a dirty look. "I still have that frying pan, you know..."

Kir stuck his tongue out, another thing the boy hadn't known a bird could do. "I'd like to see you try!" he threatened. "I ain't just an egg any more, I can fly!"

"Oh yeah?" Jing challenged belligerently. "And what're you gonna do? Fly away?"

"Maybe I will!" The second glaring match in as many days ensued, but Kir wasn't quite done yet. "Let's get something straight! I can do whatever I want, got it? I ain't your present anymore, I ain't your pet, and I definitely ain't your sidekick! And if you ever treat me like that, I'm outta here!"

The albatross expected an argument, maybe a return list of demands that he would probably reject anyway, but to his shock, Jing merely nodded.

"Okay..." the boy said softly. "Is... there anything else?"

Kir blinked. "I want my own bed," he said, which was the first thing that came to his mind, because the hammock looked comfortable and he wanted to try it.

"Oh. Okay."

"And no more makin' fun of me!"

Jing nodded again, wordlessly.

"And... that thing you do with your arm! I'm not gonna do that unless I want to! Got it?" Kir couldn't think of any more demands for the moment, but with the way none of them had been met with a single objection, he didn't doubt that he could ask for much more. He just watched as Jing mutely agreed. He should have felt satisfied; he didn't. He felt somewhat like a bully. Why hadn't Jing stood up to him?

---

Cassis and the boys returned the next day. She laughed as though nothing had happened, but Jing saw her casting wary glances over her shoulder towards the forest. The boys were eager to meet Kir, to learn all about what had become of their first real heist, and so while Clove and Pomme and Mint fawned over the albatross (who seemed quite pleased with the attention), Jing sought out Cassis.

She was sitting under the tree by the doorstep, and for a moment he thought she'd fallen asleep. Then she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Hi Jing."

"Hi Cassis," he answered, sitting down next to her. She took his right hand in her own, curiously, and he let her because he too was at a loss to explain it.

"It's not cold anymore," she observed, and he shook his head. "Does it feel all right?"

"Yeah. Kinda weird, but not bad."

"Thank you for rescuing me."

Jing blinked. "You're welcome," he answered, although he thought that hadn't really needed any thanks; it wasn't like he would have done anything else.

"You've got a new friend, too," Cassis said, nodding in the direction of Kir. "What's he like?"

The grey-eyed boy shrugged. "He's okay. Pretty bossy, though. And he snores."

"You should tell him to be nicer," Cassis suggested. "Or I could tell him." She grinned and hefted an imaginary bat; hers was inside.

Jing sighed, looking slightly downcast. "No... it's fine. I don't mind, really..."

She almost called him a liar, because she'd never been afraid of speaking her mind before (especially not with Jing) but she didn't know _why_ he'd tell such an obvious lie for a bird he barely knew. Since she wanted to find out, she held her tongue and merely replied, "If you say so," so that he would know she hadn't been fooled.

---

Kir made seven more rules before the end of the day, each more outrageous than the last.

Jing accepted each of them, premise and all, without question.

Kir wished that victory didn't make him feel like this.

---

The hammock took some getting used to, but Kir had been right in thinking it was comfortable, and had quickly fallen asleep. Thus it was with some irritation that he was woken in the middle of the night by something unknown. The room was dark and he couldn't see a thing (he had begun to think there was something wrong with his eyesight after the sun went down) but he listened and heard the soft sound of rapid breathing. Annoyed, he called, "Jing?"

The sounds stopped, but there was no answer. After a moment, Kir huffed and turned up the flame on the lamp, ready to say something about being old enough to sleep through the night. Yet he stopped when he saw the room's other occupant.

The boy was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, cheeks wet with tears that tricked unchecked from tightly closed eyes. Jing's expression was so scared and ashamed that Kir's scathing comment died in his throat, and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Jing replied, too quickly even if he hadn't been crying. "Just a nightmare. I'm sorry if... I woke you up. Please go back to sleep..."

"A nightmare?"

"A... bad dream."

"I know what a nightmare _is,_" Kir said, annoyed again. In the lamplight, he saw the boy flinch and tried to soften his tone. "What was it about?"

It never crossed Jing's mind to lie or avoid the question; he'd simply never had anyone (except _her_) ever ask him that, and so it was given complete honesty. "I... I saw my mom again. She was there, and Cassis and my friends were there too. There was a voice, telling me I had to pick who to save." He tried admirably not to sniffle but the sound came out anyway. "And when I couldn't pick, they all disappeared..."

Kir opened his beak to say something, but Jing finished softly, "And the voice... it was yours..." He fell silent again, except for the unsteady sound of each breath.

The albatross couldn't think of anything to say, sarcastic or otherwise, and finally settled for clearing his throat. "Hey... stop cryin'... nightmares ain't real, you know..."

"I know," Jing sighed, laying down again and curling up beneath the blankets. "But you're going to leave too, aren't you?" He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "That's why you made up all those rules... so that when I break one, you can leave whenever you want..."

And Kir couldn't help but pity the boy, who was so young and already had such a bleak and crestfallen outlook on life. _He put up with me bein' so awful... because he was scared I'd leave if he didn't. He'll take bein' unhappy over bein' alone without a second thought..._

He flew from his place to the edge of Jing's bed to perch there awkwardly, as too-large grey eyes peered at him, perhaps dreading to hear agreement and yet knowing that at the very least, it would end the façade.

"No," Kir said finally. "No, I ain't gonna leave." He couldn't help but feel shamed by the painful relief that brightened Jing's features. "And those rules... I didn't mean most of them. Guess I was just showin' off a bit... I'm sorry 'bout that. Now c'mon... let's go back to sleep. How about... I stay here for tonight? If you don't roll over in the middle of the night and squash me, that is..."

"Okay..." Jing made a spot for the bird, and turned out the lamp. For several heartbeats, they simply lay in the dark, each lost in his own thoughts.

"I still ain't your sidekick," Kir said suddenly.

"Partner."

"What?"

"If you want... we can be partners."

Kir considered this; partnership implied equality, and he thought maybe that's all he'd been seeking from the beginning. "Deal," the albatross announced. "That's a good contract."

"Okay," Jing said sleepily, wrapping his arms carefully around the bird.

"Okay," Kir echoed, and that was that. 


	12. Grey

Grey  
_(Theme #39 - Black and White)_

_"When I was a little boy, everything was black and white, good and evil, you see.  
Then I grew up and discovered there was only grey."_  
-- "The Valkyrie", Highlander

He'd known, of course, that Jing wouldn't be able to stay the whole winter in Amarcord. There were too many memories there, too many reminders, and in a way he was glad that the thief had hauled them out during an unseasonable thaw mid-winter because he couldn't stand to see Jing continue to wither, much like the frozen flowers outside.

It had been a brave attempt, Kir granted.

Jing had tried to make it up to him, of course. They'd lounged in sunny Galliano, far south of Amarcord, until the sun had tanned away any trace of dark circles under Jing's eyes from sleepless nights. He gave the albatross free reign of their activities, which Kir accepted because his companion needed some time to just _do_ instead of _think_.

And he'd thought that maybe, _maybe_ this time it hadn't been so bad, because Jing would smile when he was supposed to and it didn't look like it hurt quite as much.

Kir found out he was wrong.

Jing didn't have nightmares as often as he did when he had been younger, but when he did, they struck without warning. Kir had been woken suddenly as Jing bolt upright in the bed, fingers clenching the sheet as he tried to separate past from present in the first few moments. Usually he was able to shake it off -- faster now, Kir noted, than in earlier years -- but this one seemed unwilling to let go and it took Jing several minutes and Kir's calming litany to bring his heartbeat under control.

He wasn't sure if he should ask what the dream had been about, but it turned out he didn't have to when Jing covered his face with his hands. His shoulders trembled, and although it was muffled, the youth lamented, "Would she even recognize me anymore?"

It was the most forlorn thing that Kir had ever heard.

He didn't have an answer, because _yes_ was too simple to compete with such despair and _of course_ seemed too glib in the face of self-doubt. So he could only sit and offer the comfort of a physical presence while Jing cried silently; never demonstrative, even when he was still a child. Jing may have worn his heart on his sleeve, but no one ever got close enough to read the fine print.

Kir suspected there was no answer, because the only person with the absolute authority on that question couldn't be here. _Partner_ and _parent_ may have contained the same letters, but they were far from the same thing.

He wasn't even sure the answer would be an affirmative. Maybe it was good that there was no answer.

Jing had asked him in Amarcord if he'd really become so different, and Kir hadn't lied when he'd answered yes to that. And if the albatross could see it, being with Jing day in and day out, he could only have imagined what it had been like for the Auntie in Balalaika. What it would be like for _her_, a sudden shock? Or had _she_, like Kir, been watching Jing over the years?

And it had only gotten harder to watch.

Each new challenge, each new treasure... they didn't last as long. Looking back, Kir could see that Jing's life was filled with patches. When _she_ had died, it became his friends. And with their disappearance, the bandage had been the title of _Bandit King_, and everything that went with it: the mystery, the infamy, and most importantly, the mask of invincibility. But even now, Kir saw that balm beginning to wear too thin. As his conquests grew, his anonymity began to fail. It was harder for him to pass unnoticed in new cities, forcing them to stay away until the actual heists themselves, and to escape immediately thereafter.

Jing needed the passive interaction of just being able to drift though the crowd and absorb it; it was his proximity to the world, his way of connecting. Stripped of that, Kir watched the young man grow weary and worn.

Kir wished sometimes that Jing would be bitter, or at least sullen by what fate his life had been dealt. If he had, the albatross would have known he at least acknowledged it as unfair.

Nothing. Just unshakable sadness. That, Kir thought, was _unfair_ in itself.

The near-silent sobs had faded, and Jing raised his head to look at his avian companion. _Sorry,_ his grey eyes apologized. _I should be stronger..._

_No,_ Kir would've answered, _you've been more than strong enough._

And it was okay to let the mask slip now and then.

Things had never been as simple as black and white in their youth, but the lines had started to blur and Kir wasn't sure they were even there anymore. There were days that were better than others, but for the most part, the lines between _living_ and merely _existing_ had blurred too, and Kir was beginning to fear the indeterminate place in between the two.

"It's okay," Kir said anyway, and they both knew it wasn't. But Jing needed to hear it and Kir needed to say it; to do anything else was to just give up... a faded grey line that they didn't dare cross.


	13. Unexpected Gifts

Unexpected Gifts  
_(Theme #20 - "Holiday")_

Lapponia was a seasonal town, quaint and cozy and thankfully lacking the forced false cheer that larger cities often put on for this time of year. People came to Lapponia to come home, or at least to approximate the feeling. Winter in many parts of Aquavitae hit hard and fast, although it only lasted for a few scant months, and often melted away just as quickly.

Snow had been falling since that afternoon, and now as the clocks chimed a late evening hour, the whole world seemed to be muffled in a blanket of white. It crunched underfoot as the young man walked down the empty street, past houses whose windows were warmly lit, past doorways which stood wreathed in garland and evergreen.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Jing commented, his breath frosting as it hit the air.

Kir huddled on the young man's shoulder, having wrapped himself in the trailing end of Jing's scarf. "It's cold," the bird answered. They'd been walking all day in this weather, and feathers weren't as good at insulation as some might have thought. He couldn't imagine that Jing was any warmer, though; his beloved yellow coat didn't have much of a lining.

"C'mon," Kir shivered. "Let's find somewhere to stay before we both freeze. Your lips are turnin' blue, by the way."

The Bandit King looked surprised, then sheepish. "Sorry, partner," he replied. "I guess I just got caught up in the feeling of this place."

"You couldn't get sentimental over somewhere tropical, eh?" Kir wisecracked, and was glad when Jing laughed.

They found a tiny inn called Fjellfinn, and were greeted by a kindly old woman who _tsk'd_ disapprovingly at their lack of winter gear before handing them a room key and an extra blanket before shooing them upstairs.

There was a banked fire already in the hearth, and it didn't take them but a few minutes to coax it back into a cheerful blaze that began to warm the room. Jing removed his scarf and coat to hang them on the wooden pegs near the fireplace to dry out. Kir had already migrated to the bed and burrowed under the handmade quilt which covered it.

"Doesn't feel much like an inn, does it?" The albatross commented. "Pretty homey."

"No glitzy hotels here, partner."

"Not that we ever stay in any."

Jing rolled his eyes. "We usually can afford to do without that sort of high-profile attention where we go, don't you think?"

A knock sounded at the door, and they stopped their banter, looking at each other in surprise. After a moment, Jing went to the door and pulled it open; no one was there. On the floor, however, there was a plate of cookies sitting on a bundled of folded material.

"What is it?" Kir asked, when Jing simply looked puzzled.

"Snacks," the thief answered, picking the items up. The cloth unfolded itself into a deep blue sweater. "And..."

"Aww!" Kir crooned, enjoying watching Jing squirm. "Don't be rude and refuse the hospitality, Jing! Put it on! ... And bring those cookies over? I can smell them from here."

Flushing slightly in a manner that couldn't be attributed to having been outside for hours in the cold, Jing reluctantly pulled the sweater over his head. Static crackled briefly through his hair until it settled, and embarassed, he asked, "Well?"

Kir was surprised by the change. Jing somehow appeared younger, almost more... approachable. "It's good," the bird said, scooting to the side as the youth sat down on the bed next to them. They ate the gifted treats in companionable quiet, listening to the distant sound of large bells.

"We here just for the scenery?" Kir asked, breaking the silence.

Jing smiled peacefully. "Well... there was something I wanted to do while we were here..."

"Oh?" Kir prompted, intrigued by the way he'd said it.

The Bandit King ducked his head. "It's... sort of a strange thing," he mumbled.

"So?"

Jing gave an awkward grin, but nodded.

---

It was colder now, the last traces of the afternoon sunshine having been leeched into the earth. Kir started to shiver after only a few blocks, until Jing told him to sit in the crook of his arm within the coat before he froze. The bird huffed at being coddled, but wasted no time in doing so.

Jing seemed slightly unsure of his bearings, but oriented himself after a few wrong turns. "Here we go," he said, finding a cobbled alleyway and walking down it.

"You lost?" Kir asked.

"No, not really. It's just I've never been here before, and second-hand directions aren't always accurate."

Kir searched his memory. "I don't remember ever gettin' directions for this place, Jing."

"Before, partner."

_Oh_, Kir thought, and that made a bit more sense. _Before_ referred to an indefinite time prior to their meeting, usually in regards to Jing's mother. He wanted to ask but kept quiet for now, instead simply snuggling into the warm sweater and being patient.

They seemed to be moving into an older part of the town, if the condition of the surrounding buildings could be taken as any indication. There were less lights and even fewer decorations, and although Kir trusted Jing implicitly, he couldn't help but wonder what was on the young man's mind tonight.

They stopped in front of barred iron gates. The thief surveyed them, then vaulted over, planting one hand on the top railing to twist his body gracefully in midair and then land in a crouch on the other side, his left arm having never wavered in its secure hold on his partner. "Still awake?" Jing asked teasingly, as he brushed snow from his gloves.

"So far," the albatross answered with equal amusement, adjusting himself more comfortably. As long as Jing seemed to be agreeable to carrying him inside his coat, he didn't have to fly in this weather.

Away from the streetlamps, Kir could make out the shape of a large building, a black-on-black silhouette through the falling snow. The shape of it reminded him vaguely of Balalaika, with a sloping roof and high arched windows, and in a sudden realization, he recognized its original purpose: a church, lonely and dark.

"Jing?"

"It's okay, partner," the Bandit King said reassuringly. He approached the heavy wooden doors and placed a gloved hand on the large chain locking them.

"Looks like they don't want any visitors," Kir commented.

"Well, that's never been a problem for us before, has it?" Jing replied with a smile, stepping back to regard the windows above them. "That'll be easier than picking the lock," he said rhetorically, pulling himself up onto the narrow ledge and easing his shoulder against the cracked glass. The hinge gave way with a mournful creak, and Jing dropped inside lightly, his boots thumping on the wooden floor.

"Jing?" Kir asked again, his voice sounding smaller in the cavernous room they had landed in. The inside of the church looked as dilapidated as the outside, rows of pews long and silent and empty.

"Soon, partner. It's almost midnight."

"What happens at midnight?"

Jing allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom before turning towards a set of stairs which led upwards; he didn't answer his companion's question, and Kir was wise enough not to ask again. The Bandit King ducked under a curtain that had once been deep red, but now hung in rust-coloured tatters, and hopped over a hole where the stairs had rotted through. The rest of the stairs creaked warningly as he climbed, but he didn't alter his pace.

Somehow it was colder inside, as Jing emerged onto an upper balcony, perhaps once used to house the choir as it sung to the parishioners below. It shouldn't have been, since they were inside and out of the wind, but Kir thought it was far more frigid now. He wanted to know what was going on, why they'd come here and what would happen at midnight. He wanted to know why Jing was acting like this.

Somewhere in the south end of the city, large bells began to toll the top of the hour.

Jing moved to the edge of the balcony and sank into a sitting position as the notes from the bells began to drift into the abandoned church. Yet underneath the bass tones came a softer, higher sound; a crystal clear voice singing a single note.

Kir shifted to get a better view, sure that only a woman could produce such an angelic sound, but saw no one. Only the occasional snowflake falling down by the altar where the winter had worn a hole in the roof.

The clock tolled again, and more soft voices the still-unknown first, creating a gentle counterpoint to the midnight chimes. Slowly it resolved into words, lingering in the motionless air, each 'voice' seemingly capable only of singing a single note and yet whatever invisible host of them was, had managed to create a hauntingly full range.

_"Wir rufen... all zu dir...  
Tu uns des... Himmels Reich... aufschließen,  
Wenn wir einmal... sterben müssen..."_

"Jing," Kir's voice was only a whisper. "Who's singin'?"

"Spirits, Kir," the thief answered. "Spirits."

---

The phantom chorus continued long after midnight had passed, and faded away a few hours before the dawn. Jing got stiffly to his feet, his limbs protesting being kept in the same position in such cold. The bandit winced and made his way to the window through which they'd entered. "Told you it was kind of a strange thing," he said softly as he dropped down to the snowy ground once more.

Kir shook his head wonderingly. "Strange don't even _begin_ to cover that. We were listening to singin' _ghosts_, Jing!"

"Spirits."

"Same thing!" Kir started to wiggle free of Jing's coat, felt the sharp bite of the icy air, and reconsidered. "How'd you know about this, anyway? They advertise?"

He felt Jing's chuckle more than he heard it. "No, Kir. I just... knew."

The albatross let the subject drop, didn't press how or _why_ because it didn't really matter in the end. What mattered was that Jing had heard or seen something that he'd wanted -- not to steal, just to have in memory. Some days, memories were all he cared about.

"What are we gonna do now, Jing?"

The young man slipped through a previously unseen gap in the iron fence, walking briskly down the street to try and restore blood flow to his limbs. "Go back to the inn, I guess," he answered. "I'm kind of tired, partner."

"Okay," Kir answered.

---

The albatross found he could only sleep for a few hours, and when he woke, divided his attention between the rising sun and his slumbering companion. Jing looked different when he was asleep, Kir thought, smaller somehow, as if the larger-than-life persona of the Bandit King had faded away when dreams took him.

And from the peaceful beat of his heart, Jing was going to be asleep a while longer. Kir extracted himself from the youth's arms and shook his feathers back into place. The thief, sensing the lost warmth, stirred and drew the blanket closer. Yet he was obviously tired, and did not wake.

Satisfied, Kir flew downstairs, only to bump into the lady innkeeper who'd rented them the room the night before. "_Hyv Joulua!_" she exclaimed brightly. "Where's your friend?"

"Still sleeping," the bird answered. "We were, uh, out a little late last night."

"You poor dears," she replied, patting him on top of the head (much to his consternation). He noticed that the bottom floor of the inn seemed even more decorative in the early morning light.

"You really go all out for this holiday, huh?"

"Certainly," she beamed. "It's the biggest celebration in Lapponia. You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Nah," Kir shook his head. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any decorations left over, would you?"

---

Jing stirred, opening his eyes slightly to regard the soft light coming through the curtained window. An absence of feathers made him call drowsily, "Kir?"

There was no answer, and Jing sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from his grey eyes. The albatross wasn't in the room, which was unusual but not particularly alarming. He briefly considered burrowing back into the warm blankets and going back to sleep, but after a moment, he pushed them aside with a sigh and climbed out of the bed, his toes curling on the wooden floor.

Smothering a yawn as he stoked the fire, Jing looked again for his avian companion. _Probably trying to find a pretty girl to catch under the mistletoe,_ the thief thought. _Hope he finds one, that'd be a nice gift for him..._

"Hey, you're awake," Kir said brightly from the windowsill, and Jing turned with a tired smile.

"Yeah," he answered. "There you are."

"Sorry," the albatross apologized. "Just takin' care of some stuff. So! Are you ready to go?"

"I guess so," Jing answered, gathering his coat and bag. "Not interested in staying?"

Kir shrugged, still grinning. "You got something you're stickin' around for?"

"No. I don't."

---

Jing was quiet as they left Lapponia, perhaps lost in his thoughts of the previous night, and Kir didn't miss the melancholy air he carried with him. Yet there was little comfort the bird could offer; this was a time of family. Perhaps, listening to the phantom choir in the abandoned church had been the closest the youth could get any more, and Kir suspected that it had come up painfully short of actually feeling _right_.

"Hey," he said. "Wanna cut through the forest? We'll save some time that way."

"Sure," Jing said listlessly, changing direction to follow the snowy path. The sounds of the celebrating city quickly fell behind them. Suddenly Kir spread his wings and lifted into the air, chuckling.

"Come on, Jing, follow me!"

"What?" His human companion looked thrown by the request, as though wondering what had gotten into the albatross to make him seem so cheerful this morning.

"Let's go! It took me forever to find the perfect one!" Kir flew off through the trees, leaving Jing to scramble across the snow after him.

"Wait! Kir, perfect one what?" The Bandit King slipped and almost tumbled into a snowbank, but caught his footing and glimpsed black feathers through the snow-laden trees; where were they going? "Kir! There's nothing out here but tr--"

He stopped mid-sentence as he came upon a tree that didn't quite fit with the others. It was short, what could almost be described as squat, but had been shook free of snow and draped with coloured garland and a few ornaments. Although there were no lights, it looked festive next to its bare neighbours. "Kir... what's this?"

Kir circled the tree once, beaming, and then settled on the youth's shoulder. "It's a tree! I mean, it's kind of shrimpy. And there's no presents or anything. And... well, it's kind of lopsided too..."

"You did this?"

"Yep." Kir bobbed his head affirmatively, then hesitated as Jing didn't move. "You like it?"

The albatross suddenly found himself in a tight embrace. "I do, Kir," Jing breathed, and Kir knew that he wasn't just saying so because he smiled and it seemed to light his eyes as well. "I... Thank you."

"_Hyv Joulua,_ Jing."

---

Notes:

**Lapponia** Lapponia is the name of a Finnish cloudberry liqueur. The taste of cloudberry is exquisite, dynamic and pure in the liqueur. Cloudberries, rich in vitamins and minerals, grow only in the moors and marshlands of northernmost Scandinavia. A strong, rich liqueur. Excellent straight, with dessert, or mixed in a cocktail. Alcohol 21 vol. Sugar 335 g/l. Total acidity 2.2 g/l.

**Fjellfinn** _Ingredients:_ 1 part Lakka, 2 parts Vodka. _Mixing instructions:_ Mix the two ingredients. Garnish with a birch leaf. _Note:_ This drink is one created in the Royal Norwegian Cavalry and drunk mostly by officers at Setermoen in Troms. It's taste is quite good and the leaf adds a nice touch.

**Hyv Joulua** Merry Christmas in Finnish. (Was going for a European feeling, I guess.)

**Translation** From the original German carol, "Still, Still, Still". The piece from the story is below:

_Wir rufen all zu dir:  
Tu uns des Himmels Reich aufschließen,  
Wenn wir einmal sterben müssen. _

We all implore Thee:  
Open for us heaven's gate  
Let your kingdom be our fate.


	14. In Keeping, Trust

In Keeping, Trust  
_(Theme #21 - Release)_

_What--?_ Kir wasn't sure what it had been, but something had roused him from slumber. He looked around the dark barn, but the moonlight shafting through the wide-spaced boards of the hayloft weren't enough to augment his poor night vision. Jing was curled up in the straw beside him, but tonight's sleep was untroubled and restful, and he knew it hadn't been the teen that'd woken him. He was about to shrug it off and close his eyes when the noise came again -- rustling from outside, a soft sound like nails on wood. Another animal? The last thing Kir was in the mood for was some nosy racoon sniffing around and keeping him awake. He shook his feathers free from the hay and flew to the doorway, looking around suspiciously.

He didn't see it coming.

Jaws closed around him, tight enough to keep him from breaking loose and just shy of breaking skin. There was a blast of wind in his ears and then he was dropped -- spat -- to the ground. Spluttering, Kir righted himself and looked around. He was in a clearing, the barn nowhere to be seen, and he was alone. "All right," he shouted, shaking a fisted wing in the air, "what's the big idea!?"

"Aren't _you_ just impertinent for someone who tastes like chicken," a silky voice came from off to his right. "A little gamey, though..."

_**"Gamey!?"**_ the albatross exploded, trying to pick out the source of the voice. Yet he could only make out the shadowy outlines of the trees surrounding him. Still, his temper wasn't deterred. "_Chicken?!_ You show your face and I'll _show_ you 'chicken', you--!"

This time, he saw the paw a split second before it clubbed him upside the head, sending him skidding across the ground before it clamped down on top of him. Claws sank painfully into his wings, keeping him from getting back up, and the creature's golden eyes stared down at him. "You are _utterly_ blind at night, aren't you?"

"... not completely," Kir managed, but only because he was staring in shock at the narrow, white-furred face above him. "You're... you're the fox from Adonis..."

Sherry sneered at him, sitting back on her haunches without retracting her claws so he was pinned down. Yet even as she sniffed haughtily, he could see some marked changes. Her fur wasn't nearly as luxurious as it had been -- even matted in some places -- and her other paw had a deep gash running the length of it, partially healed. Kir squirmed, but her hold didn't loosen. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see you," she said, falsely sweet.

"You tried to eat me!"

"Don't be stupid," the fox scoffed. "I have _much_ finer taste than that. In truth I wanted to check if that human of yours had managed to rein you in."

Kir bristled. "You stay away from Jing -- waitaminute, what do you mean, reined me in?!"

Sherry's ears flicked forward, and her lavender eyes seemed to glow from within. Kir suddenly found himself unable to look away from the gaze, even as he felt her probing his mind. Time slowed (distantly, he thought that was painfully, ironically funny, and felt the fox's chuckle agree with him) and then the hold broke, and he lay blinking and dazed. Above him, he heard contemplatively, "Interesting. No bond."

"No... what?" Kir said, feeling sluggish, and tried to shake the feeling off.

"Bond, you fool. He hasn't tied you down yet, that's interesting to me."

"It... is?" With considerable mental effort, the bird shed the last of the unnatural fatigue. "What bond? Jing and me, we're partners."

Sherry sneered, and with the expression came a digging of the claws in his wing, and he couldn't help but wince. "Yes, I remember that saccharine pet name you have for each other. You haven't the _slightest_ idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Her voice dripped with condescension. "You _do_ know you're not exactly _normal_ for your kind, right?"

When he looked uncertain, she pressed her nose nearly to his feathers and sniffed. A flash of surprise crossed her expression. "Why is your power so underdeveloped? How old are you, anyway?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Kir squawked, aghast. "And don't sniff me!"

Ignoring him, she said thoughtfully, "Three years since Adonis... makes you four? Five?"

Baffled and with no idea where the fox was going with this interrogation, Kir retorted, "Let me up and maybe I'll teach you how to count!"

She bared her fangs at him, and for a moment he wondered if maybe he'd gone too far, but then with a pinch, the claws retracted and lifted the weight holding him down. He scooted back a safe distance from her, ready to fly if needed. Yet when she didn't come after him again, he hesitated. "Why does how old I am matter to anything?"

"Because you should be much stronger than you are. When did you hatch?"

Kir thought, _at least she got the terminology right,_ and grudgingly answered, "A little over eight years ago..."

"Then you are _pathetically_ weak for your age." Without warning, she opened her mouth and a sphere of golden energy formed there; Kir recognized it as an attack and scrambled out of the way just before she released the blast. It carved a furrow in the ground and threw dirt into the air.

"HEY! What'd you do that for?!" Kir yelled, now airborne and checking to make sure his feathers weren't singed.

"Why didn't you attack me back?"

"Wh-what?" It was only then that he realized she had summoned an attack, exactly like those used against he and Jing in Adonis, except she'd done so alone. "H-hey, how'd you--"

Sherry titled her head to one side. "You can't do that, can you?"

Despite circumstances, Kir found himself intrigued. "I... don't know. You mean Master Gear wasn't--"

The fox cut him off yet again, and this time there was a hard edge to her voice. "That weak fool's power only came from what _I_ gave him!"

They both allowed silence to settle in the clearing for several minutes, long enough for the crickets to resume their night time serenade. Kir had not missed the bitterness in the other's voice and did not feel it was wise to pursue that particular matter, yet he was still curious about some of the other things she'd said. Cautiously, he said, "What did you mean by, no bond?"

"I mean, that human of yours hasn't tried to kill you yet."

Kir squawked again, this time involuntarily. "Are you crazy?! Of course Jing ain't tried to kill me! He's my friend!"

"He's your master, you mean."

The albatross bristled again, furiously this time, and Sherry was mildly surprised to feel a brief spike of that buried power surface. "No, that _ain't_ what I mean. _Partner_ ain't some pet name, it means we're equals, got that?"

"Then why does he control what you do, where you go?" Sherry challenged. "He calls, and you're there... he's got you remarkably _well-trained_. You have the potential to be powerful and yet you've either squandered it, or he's suppressed it. You are like me: unique, unlike any other of our kinds. And you've _wasted_ it."

Before he could respond, she pressed on, her voice flicking out like a whip strike. "It's rare that one of our kind and one of _those_ human kind, end up together. Thus you have become the exception to the rule, yet that also means _either_ of you can initiate such a bond."

"What's this _bond_ you keep yappin' about?"

"An unbreakable link between two souls, making both infinitely more powerful and yet becoming a double-edged sword. It would force you to remain together, and should one die, the other would perish as well."

Kir scowled, yet for some reason, he didn't challenge the truth of her claim. Perhaps in the past they had faced off as adversaries, but Kir didn't deny that they were the same in some senses -- namely, that they were indeed unique creatures, similar only in the power they could conjure. "I don't need any _link_," he shot back, "Jing an' I stay with each other 'cause we _want_ to."

"Ah," Sherry smiled. "But you have never tried to leave, have you?"

"So?"

"So... he would never allow it. That is why you may _call_ each other equals, but you are not."

Kir found himself at a loss for words. _Of course I've never tried to leave. Even when Jing and me fight, the most we ever stay apart is for a couple days, until we both cool off..._

"No vehement denial, I see."

The albatross had yet to come up with a response, and none seemed forthcoming. Finally he said, with as much confidence as he could muster, "Jing is my friend, not my keeper. If I wanted to leave, then I could and he wouldn't stop me."

"Mm. If you say so."

Spreading his wings, Kir growled, "I've heard enough. Go back to... wherever you were before you decided to 'drop in' on us. And don't you come around me an' Jing again." When the fox made no move to stop him, he soared up and out of the clearing; when he looked down, she had vanished.

The barn was about half a mile away, and Kir arrowed towards it. He was tired and his wing still hurt from Sherry's claws, but his mind was troubled. He landed in the hayloft, next to his companion's sleeping form. Seemingly unaware of his absence, Jing didn't appear to have moved, and for that Kir was grateful as he wasn't sure he cared to explain where he'd been. Instead he nestled into the young man's arms and felt them unconsciously draw around him warmly, as they always did.

The hold felt abnormally possessive, and Kir didn't go back to sleep. 


	15. Asymmetric

Asymmetric  
_(Theme #32 - School Uniforms)_

"Owowowowow..."

The force of the slap far outweighed the indiscretion of the comment, Kir thought dazedly, and wondered if his beak had been dislocated. _All I said was she'd look good in one of those school girl skirts, not just those big poofy ball gowns..._

The gown-wearer in question stood over the albatross, face red with indignation and haughtiness. He tented his wings over his head -- a sign of surrender -- but she raised her hand again and he couldn't help but flinch. "Foul-mouthed little --" A strong hand caught her wrist and held it up firmly.

"No. A lady is entitled to one strike if she's been offended. Any more than that, and you're attacking my partner." Fingers tightened, enough to make his point and perhaps a bruise or two later; she let out a soft gasp.

"I-I was only..."

"I was watching," Jing said coldly, his ash-coloured eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "So don't bother trying to lie."

"Mmm," the woman said, recovering a bit and trailing her other hand down Jing's arm. "Maybe you're better versed in courtship --"

He pushed her away, hard enough to sit her down in her chair without harming her; the look on her face was one of comical shock. "No thanks," he said, a hint of disgust in his voice. "We'll be going now."

He collected Kir from the table and swept out of the room.

"Guess I deserved that one," Kir muttered as they walked down the darkened street, pressing a wing to the side of his head. His ears were ringing still.

"No... you didn't," Jing answered. "Not this time, anyway."

"Comin' to my rescue from now on, eh Jing?" Kir smirked, but the thief answered only by rubbing the bird's wing joints, (a place that ached often from bearing the weight of the huge wings of his altered state) and Kir sagged bonelessly, practically crooning in appreciation. "Ohh... I feel better already."

"One day you'll find a girl just for you," Jing said consolingly. "Until then, try to keep from offending all the others..."

"I"ll do my best," the albatross mumbled, to which the Bandit King only shook his head wryly. 


	16. Deep Down

Deep Down  
_(Theme #14 - "If only...")_

The strains of a waltz drifted to the upper level, where a black albatross leaned listlessly on the marble railing, watching the pinwheel flares of satin and silk down below. The dance floor was tiled in blue and gold, giving it the appearance of the night sky from this height, but he barely noticed the intricate designs. Instead he watched the people; more specifically, the women in their smiling jeweled masks.

His human companion leaned on the railing beside him, but Kir didn't move. "You got it?"

Jing opened his hand to reveal a multi-faceted sapphire, so deep blue in colour that it was almost black, dancing with a pale blue flame within. "The Star of Hpnotiq," the bandit said. "You'd think the name would have given it away. Or if not the name, the fact that every member of the ruling family fell into a year-long sleep after putting it on..." he trailed off, seeing that the albatross wasn't listening. "... Kir?"

"They're not even going to discover it's gone until morning..."

The thief laughed a little, the sound masked by the music from below. "You would have preferred a bit more excitement in this heist, partner?" He hoped to get a sarcastic remark, but the avian merely stared at the dance floor. Jing glanced down; other than the swirling dancers, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

In fact, Kir had been silent or nearly so for more than a week now, and although he'd tried repeatedly to find out what was wrong, his friend merely shook off his concern and in one instance, actually snapped back at him for _nagging_.

"... Partner?" Jing tried, sliding the sapphire into his pocket for safekeeping.

_"You do know you're not exactly normal for your kind, right?"_

"I want to dance with them," Kir said softly, his eyes fixed on the gowned women.

"Oh?" Jing said, feeling the beginnings of relief. If it was _that_ which was troubling Kir, perhaps the problem was not as unfamiliar as he'd thought. "Go ahead then, I'll wait..."

_"You are like me: unique, unlike any other of our kinds."_

The albatross turned his head to one side. "I can't," he whispered. "Not really."

Jing's relief flickered and died; for a moment, he had nothing to say. It hurt him to see his companion so melancholy, especially since Kir's words were true, and they both knew it. He reached out a hand to stroke the inky feathers but was stunned when Kir _flinched_ ever so slightly.

"Kir," the Bandit King said quietly. "Please, tell me what's wrong..."

---

The tale came out in bits and pieces, interspersed with long periods of silence when the albatross ran out of available words. Kir kept glancing at Jing, as though trying to gauge the young man's reactions, but he simply sat silent and listened without any interruption.

Kir carefully modified the story to exclude any mention of Sherry's challenge: that Jing would never release him if it was what Kir really desired. The bird wasn't sure what to think about that, except for knowing that he didn't want _Jing_ thinking about it either.

"So Sherry thought... I'd have forced some kind of link on you?" Jing questioned slowly, and there was a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Yeah..."

"Stupid fox," Jing bit out, then softened his tone as he turned back to the albatross. "So this is what's been bothering you all this time?"

Kir's feathers ruffled, and he nodded reluctantly; it was as much as he felt comfortable telling. He wasn't sure it was a good sign, however, that he felt less comfortable about telling Jing the rest of Sherry's accusations than he did _lying_ to the youth.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jing questioned, and Kir couldn't quite meet the shy hopefulness in his grey eyes. He wondered not for the first time how Jing managed to be adult in body and yet a child in mind.

"It's okay," Kir replied. "I should have told you sooner, and not kept it a secret. This is just... the way things are."

And Jing, who had often recited the same phrase in the past, said no more.

---

Notes:

**Hpnotiq** is a blend of triple distilled, super premium French vodka, the finest pot still Cognac, and natural tropical fruit juices.


	17. Best Intentions

Best Intentions  
_(Theme #16 - Words of the Heart)_

"I can't believe I'm missing -- _ow!_ -- bat practice for this," Cassis muttered, sucking on her finger for a moment where the needle had jabbed it again. "And why am I doing this? You've got two good hands now..."

Jing gave a sheepish "heh" and scratched the back of his head. "Uhhh... because you're better at it?"

The blonde gave him a Look and he found the spool of thread very interesting. With a grumble, she completed another stitch and heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure I see the point in stitching red cloth with red _thread_ anyway, you're not even going to be able to read it unless you know it's there..."

"That _is_ the point," Jing said. "And are you sure everything's spelled right?"

"Look, if you wanna do this--"

"No no... it's okay," the boy said, waving his hands placatingly. There was a peaceful silence for a few minutes until, unable to help himself, Jing asked, "Is it done yet?"

A sharp needle jabbed him in the knee, and he cried, "OW! CASSIS!"

"NO IT'S NOT DONE! YOU'RE SITTING RIGHT BESIDE ME, YOU'LL KNOW WHEN IT'S DONE!"

"THERE'S NO NEED TO YELL AT ME!"

"YOU YELLED FIRST!"

"BECAUSE YOU JABBED ME WITH THE NEEDLE!"

"BECAUSE YOU WERE BEING STUPID!"

Silence. The blonde girl took up the cloth and needle again, squinting as she rethreaded the thin red line which had fallen loose during the verbal battle. Recovering from their startlement, the crickets in the grass began to chirp again, nervously at first, then with their usual song. Eventually Cassis added, "The idea... it isn't stupid though."

---

"Kir!"

The albatross perked at Jing's eager call, and was surprised when the boy came up to him bearing a small box and a shy grin. "I have something for you," he said, and set the box down in front of him.

Kir cocked his head to one side, opening the lid. Folded neatly inside was a small patch of red cloth, and he looked at the grey-eyed boy skeptically. "What's this?"

"It's--"

"Clothes??" Kir said, poking at the material with a wingtip. "Now wait just a minute, Jing, only humans wear clothes!" The wing came up and prodded Jing's chest instead, making his point. "Just 'cause I can talk doesn't mean I want you thinkin' we're the same, got that? You should know that by now! The feathers are doin' just fine, thank you very much!"

"I-I..." The boy seemed at a loss for words, stunned by Kir's reaction. "I only--"

"Yeah yeah, you didn't do it on purpose, I know," Kir allowed, and gave Jing a quick, distracted pat on the head before spreading his wings again. "The Aunties are making maple toffee with the boys again. You want some?"

"I'll... get some... later," Jing said, attempting a smile. It crumbled once the bird had taken flight disappeared back down the hill towards town. The boy took the cloth from the box and unfolded it, running his fingers over the red-on-red stitching that ran along the outside edge of the bandana.

"... Happy birthday, Kir..." he whispered.

---

When Cassis came back to the house some hours later, she brought with her a bag full of the brown sugary treat. Jing had never come down to the town, which she thought was strange considering the maple confection was one of his favourites. She'd left early, promising to return soon, and hiked up the hill. Jing was sitting on the doorstep, staring at the sunset, and she saw the red bandana dangling loosely from one hand. Her brow furrowed; hadn't he told her that he was going to give Kir his present a day early?

"Hey," she said, sitting down next to him and offering him the bag. He mechanically took a piece and ate it, although his expression was so distant that she could have offered him tree bark and he'd have taken it without question. "What's wrong? Didn't you give that to Kir?"

"He didn't want it."

"What?" Cassis said, having not expected such an answer. "Why not?!"

"He said it's clothes and only humans wear clothes, and we shouldn't try and pretend he's human because he can talk..." The blonde girl was about to make a sharp retort when he added in a frail voice, "I'm sorry I made you waste your time on it..."

She should have realized something was wrong when he didn't look at her as she sat down, but had just become painfully obvious. Cassis set down the bag of candy and took the bandana from him; he didn't resist. "But... it was his birthday present. You don't just say... that you don't want it," she tried. "Maybe if you--"

Jing shook his head, stopping her. "It's... it's fine. If he doesn't want it, then he doesn't need to take it. Our birthday's not until tomorrow anyway. When we go to town, I'll tell him... to find something he likes, and I'll get that for him instead. Then he'll be happy with his gift..."

_Our birthday._

Cassis didn't miss the phrasing. The albatross' rejection, regardless of the reasons for it, had left Jing crushed, and she suspected it had hurt most because he'd offered it with such honest and hopeful intentions. Yet she knew he'd hide it, at least from Kir, and not for the first time she wondered about the relationship between those two. _I'm sorry he hurt you, Jing..._

"I gotta get back to the Aunties," she said reluctantly, knowing that the boys would not go to bed until she returned to the orphanage. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow," he echoed, "and thank you for the candy."

They were hollow words, but she didn't challenge them. At the edge of the clearing, she glanced back in time to see Jing open his hand and let the wind carry the red bandana away.

---

Kir had followed Cassis, not long after the girl had trekked up the hill to where Jing's house in the forest was, but the conversation carried on between the two on the doorstep kept him from revealing himself, and instead he huddled on the rooftop cornice, out of sight.

_"... Our birthday's not until tomorrow anyway. When we go to town, I'll tell him... to find something he likes, and I'll get that for him instead. Then he'll be happy with his gift..."_

_Our birthday?_ Kir thought to himself, surprised. _Has it been... a year already?_ He had known that his understanding of time was different from his companions', because he'd often forget things that Jing had told him would happen in a few days, in a few weeks, in a month, and be utterly shocked when they were suddenly upon him. Had he now misjudged what time of year it was? But no one had said anything about a birthday...!

Cassis left, and Kir warred with indecision, unsure how to approach Jing. _I think... I've really screwed up this time..._ The bandana (as he now saw it) hadn't been an attempt to make him seem more 'human' to them, but a well-intentioned gift that he'd all but thrown back in his partner's face, all because he'd forgotten what tomorrow was. _Stupid, stupid!_ he berated himself.

Below him, on the stoop, the boy released the unwanted gift. The wind swept it away towards the treeline as he disappeared inside, melancholy trailing behind him like a wake. Kir opened his wings and flew with the breeze, following the wind current's path. He had to find it.

The low light had turned everything into a grey-gold tableau, but he located the red square a couple hundred yards into the woods, caught on a piece of rough bark. With the fading light just barely enough illumination, he half-read, half-traced the stitched letters, stumbling over the longer words.

_Happy first birthday and anniversary, friend and partner._ And their names, all of them... Jing, Cassis, Clove, Pomme, Mint... and his own, Kir.

Kir suddenly found it hard to breathe. _Oh no... Jing, I didn't mean to..._

But his silent apology wasn't what was needed. Grasping the material firmly in his talons, he lifted back into the air, determined to fix the situation by any means necessary.

---

Jing had already blown out the lamps in the house, shutting the door but leaving the window wide open for his avian friend to return. Normally he would read, with books _borrowed_ from the Balalaika library, but tonight he'd simply wrapped up in his blanket and tried to fall asleep. A rustle of feathers in the otherwise silent room alerted him that Kir had returned, and while the room was dark he blinked furiously, trying to rid his eyes of the faint moisture that had since gathered there.

The albatross alighted on the swaying edge of the hammock once his eyes had adjusted, and said softly, "Jing?" even though he knew the boy was not asleep.

"Yeah..."

"You dropped this," Kir said, offering the bandana, and in the moonlight coming through the window, saw Jing shy away slightly... yet he accepted the cloth, twining it between his fingers as though worried Kir might get too close a look at it. "I found it in the forest..."

"Oh..." The black-haired boy swallowed. "I, um... yeah..."

"Jing..." Kir said, his voice softened by regret, "I didn't know... I swear, I really didn't know why you tried to give that to me... you _know_ me and my forgetting when things happen..."

"It's okay, Kir," Jing said, smiling weakly in what would have been a reassuring manner, if his eyes hadn't given him away; crestfallen, dejected. "If you don't like it, then... it doesn't really matter what the reason was..."

And the bird was reminded so strongly of their first few nights together, when Jing had been fearful of the possibility that he would leave, no longer bound by an eggshell and still ready to lash out at any who tried to 'tame' him. _After all this time, Jing... is that what you're still afraid of? That I would leave because you did something..._

"The reason is the most important thing," Kir corrected gently, slipping from the hammock edge to the boy's lap and sighing. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk. What matters is that it's from my friends, all of them, and because of that, I _do_ want it... even if I didn't take it at first." He looked up at the boy. "Can you tie it on for me?"

Hope like pinprick stars found its way back into Jing's eyes, and he nodded. The albatross sat patiently as the bandana was carefully worked over the black feathers so they wouldn't rub the wrong way. "Is that too tight?"

"Nah..." Once it was secured, Kir turned around. "Well?"

"It... brings out your eyes?" Jing gave a little laugh, the tease rewarded with a harrumph from the bird.

It wasn't until they had settled into the blankets together that a thought struck Kir, drawing him back from sleep. "I just realized... I didn't get you anything for your birthday, Jing..."

"Yes you did, partner," Jing murmured sleepily. "Yes you did."


	18. Intangible

Intangible  
_(Theme #40 - Mail)_

The small fire crackled, sending sparks up into the air, like tiny golden starts mingling with the white ones far overhead. The blaze provided a modicum of heat, evidenced by the black feathered form huddled on the ground near it. The campsite's other occupant was reclining on grass, one arm bent behind his head for a pillow and the other one raised above him, holding a thin white envelope. It was regarded with a thoughtful expression, moved back and forth as though blocking out the constellations, but its holder said nothing.

"Oy, Jing," Kir said finally. "Can you put more wood on the fire? I ain't a penguin, you know..."

"Hm?"

The albatross huffed at the distracted response. "I _said_, it's cold!"

"Oh. Right." Jing's eyes didn't leave the envelope. "Did you want me to put more wood on the fire, partner?"

Kir sighed. It was impossible to hold any sort of conversation with the young man when he was in these moods, which seemed to happen every couple of months, especially when he found himself with nothing else to do. The bird gave the packaged letter a glare, although he knew if his companion saw the look, he'd disapprove. After all, the youth had spent nearly an hour on it earlier that day.

But he didn't have the heart to berate Jing for it, the same as he could never bring himself to criticize any of the dozens of letters he'd written in the past. Not when they were all addressed in Jing's odd handwriting, not when each of them bore the same name.

_Cassis_

"I hate not knowing," Jing said softly, and rolled onto his side. With a flick of his wrist, the letter was sent into the flames, where the hungry fire consumed it in seconds. Although the blaze burned hotter for a moment, Kir felt even colder than before.

And yet it was the same fate that met every letter he had ever seen Jing write.

It was one of the things that haunted the Bandit King, and as Kir suspected, one of the few things in his life that he'd never been able to come to terms with. Losing Cassis and the boys... and not so much losing them as having them taken. The bird reflected back to their last days in Amarcord, and Jing and Cassis had argued, _bitterly_, and it had sent them both fuming to their respective homes for the night. Each assumed their own point was right (it was a child's perogative, after all, was it not?) and each too stubborn to back down.

Kir had begged Jing not to leave, watching the angry boy furiously pack a few things from the house and locking the door tightly. And when it was made clear that he couldn't talk him out of it, then he pleaded to at least go to Balalaika and tell their friends goodbye -- and this, even more vehemently, had been denied.

_"Either come with me or stay here with them, Kir, you can't do both,"_ he'd been told.

He'd gone with him, of course he had, leaving behind the only place he'd known for all of two years since he'd hatched. Something inside him insisted he watch over the human he called _partner_ and he didn't deny it.

"Jing..."

"Hm? Oh... wood. Yeah." The Bandit King pushed himself to his feet and headed for a small stand of pines not far away.

They'd never see Cassis again.

A year later, when they'd returned, she was gone from Amarcord as if she'd never been, and the boys with her. Bewildered, he'd asked for her -- anyone, but especially the Aunties, and they had only given him sad shrugs and sympathetic glances. He'd insisted -- surely _someone_ had to know where she'd gone, what city she called home, or god forbid that something had happened to her -- but no one could answer him.

To this day, no one could answer him.

Jing returned with several dead branches, which he stacked into the fire. The dry wood caught almost immediately, and soon the tiny campsite was toasty warm.

"Jing," Kir said again, "I don't understand. Why do you write those letters... and burn them? I've never seen you send even one..."

The grey-eyed young man sighed. "Because... because I'd have to give them to Postino, wouldn't I?"

The albatross blinked. "I... guess so. What, you worried he's gonna read your letters or somethin'? I mean, the guy's pretty weird, but I don't think he's quite _that_ weird, y'know?"

Jing gave his avian companion a soft chuckle. "No, partner, that's not it at all. But Postino, he... can deliver to anywhere in the world, can't he? That's his job, to deliver to people in places, maybe not on any map."

"So?"

"So..." Jing stared at the fire, drawing his knees up to his chest in a childlike manner. "What if he can't deliver it, Kir? What if I send that letter, and it comes back? That would mean..."

_That would mean it was undeliverable,_ Kir finished silently, _and there's only one explanation for that._

"But you said you hated 'not knowing'..."

"I know I did," Jing swallowed. "And it's true, but... I can't, Kir. Maybe one day, but right now I can't."

_Because you haven't forgiven yourself for it yet,_ the albatross thought solemnly. _And you need to have something to hang onto, however intangible it might be. Yeah... I understand, Jing._

"It's okay, partner, I miss her too..."

And he didn't contradict it.

---

A knock at the door roused her, and she called, "Come in," since she never locked it. The door swung open and she smiled. "Hi Clove."

"Onee-chan," the young man, now in his late teens, replied with a smile. It seemed he and his friends had never grown out of calling her that. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

Cassis smiled back at him. Between he, along with Pomme and Mint, dating the Cilantro sisters, and her own work for the school, they didn't get to see each other as much as she'd have liked. "I'm fine," she answered. "I've been a little busy lately, that's all."

Clove took a seat on the couch, picking up the large scrapbook that sat on the table. Before she could protest, he flipped it open and scanned the pages inside. "You _have_ been busy, onee-chan, there's a lot of new articles here..."

The blonde blushed, cast around for something to occupy her attention, and settled for washing the dishes. Over the clink of plates and cups, she said, "It's just a habit, Clove..."

He put down the scrapbook and approached her. "Onee-chan, if you miss aniki that much, why don't you try to find him?"

Cassis sighed. "It's not that easy anymore..." She glanced at the open book and the newspaper clippings, and avoided her childhood friend's questioning gaze. "He must be so happy with what he's doing, Clove, or he wouldn't still be doing it after all this time. How could I ever think he'd want to come back to a small life with a girl he probably barely remembers?"

Clove just shook his head, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. The eldest Strikeout boy still missed Jing, as did his 'brothers'. Their _aniki_ had left without warning and without farewell, and for the first week they couldn't even get Cassis to admit that they'd fought some days earlier, although she had never told them about what -- not even to this day.

_What could they have argued about?_

She'd just hugged them tightly, promising them that it would get sorted out eventually, and that Jing and Kir would surely come back soon. It wasn't until stories came trickling back to Amarcord, mortifying the Aunties and delighting the children, that Cassis finally admitted to herself that maybe she hadn't been able to read Jing as well as she'd once thought.

_But at least... he's doing what makes him happy..._

It just didn't include her, and even after nearly a decade, she still wasn't sure how that made her feel. And whether she'd say it aloud or not, that was why she'd moved to this tiny town of Shochu, far away from Amarcord, where the Bandit King was just a bedtime story and not a friend that she hadn't seen in ten long years.

"Onee-chan?" Clove said, laying a hand on her arm, and Cassis blinked, unaware that she'd been staring into space for the last few minutes. "It's okay, onee-chan, we miss him too..."

And she didn't contradict it.

---

Notes:

**Shochu** is a traditional Japanese distilled spirit. There are two types, Ko and Otsu. The standard type shochu, Otsu, is made from mainly rice, sweet potatoes, rye, corn, or raw sugar, and is distilled in pot stills. The main ingredient in In Ko-type shochu is molasses. Both types use malted rice for fermentation, and depending on the brand and where it is produced, the alcohol content varies from 40 to 90 proof (20 to 45 percent ABV), although the average is around 50 proof (25 ABV). 


	19. Unraveled

Unraveled  
_(Theme #10 - Windows to the Soul)_

It has been raining steadily for about an hour now, but Jing hadn't moved from the granite ledge overlooking the manor below. The wind had also picked up, and although he'd taken shelter within the folds of the yellow jacket, Kir was still cold and soaked through. Yet his human companion remained unmoving, chin perched in one hand and his grey eyes trained on the unlit upper floor.

Kir wondered if Jing even noticed it was raining. "Hey," he said. "How long are we gonna be out here?"

"You can go back if you want, partner."

"That wasn't what I asked," the albatross muttered, "An' you know it. You're gonna get sick if you sit out here in the rain all night."

"I want to know where they keep that opal," Jing said, shaking his head slightly and casting drops of water at the bird. "If we're patient, it'll save us a lot of pointless looking later."

Kir heaved a sigh. He certainly wouldn't mind getting his talons on the Opal of Orancio, a priceless red stone that disappeared from record some 600 years previous, supposedly stolen from the emperor of Cinzano. But as he pointed out to the bandit, "Why are we lookin' for it here? I mean, this is a nice house, but it ain't hardly a palace."

"I don't think it was stolen."

"You... don't?" Kir was confused. "Whatcha mean? The emperor had it, an' then he _didn't_ have it, what else could have happened?"

"I think he gave it away."

"Huh? To who?"

Jing pointed to the manor. "To the girl that lives here. Or rather, to this girl's great-great-something grandmother, who used to work in the emperor's palace. However many greats there are to go back that far. And it's been passed down ever since."

Kir was slowly starting to get the picture. "An' maybe the emperor didn't want to tell anyone he was givin' family jewels to the maid, and said it got stolen instead!"

"Bingo," Jing answered with a smile. "I'd say the family's done pretty well for themselves, wouldn't you?"

The albatross ruffled his wings, scattering raindrops. "But Jing, Cinzano's not even on the map anymore. It's all just a bunch of ruins, has been for a long time, you said! Why now?"

"After the opal disappeared, the emperor of Cinzano became the figure of a tragic ruler, and the people rallied under him, some day in support and some say in pity. Either way, for the next hundred years, Cinzano was the most prosperous and peaceful region in all of Aquavitae, even more than Zaza. Even to this day, the emperor is thought of as a hero."

A single light on the upper floor flickered on, and Jing turned his attention back to the manor. A slender silhouette, backlit by the glow of a lamp, wound its way up the staircase. Although Kir's poor vision in the dark prevented him from seeing much detail, Jing looked quite satisfied with whatever he was observing, and after several minutes, the light went out and Jing got to his feet.

"Okay, partner," the thief said. "We can both go now. The safe isn't _behind_ the picture, it's through it."

"Huh?"

Jing laughed. "Don't worry. We'll come back on a night when it's not raining."

The albatross harrumphed. "You don't make sense half the time. You're still going to get sick or somethin' from bein' out here all this time. _I'm_ gonna get sick."

"Will not."

"We'll see..."

---

"So," Kir said with deceptive cheerfulness as the window shutters parted and Jing dropped lightly inside the hallway, the plush carpet muffling his boots. "What was that you said about not getting sick, sittin' out there in the rain?"

"Kir..."

"I'm just askin'..." He landed on his companion's shoulder; while it was dark and in a confined place, he generally trusted Jing's better night vision to guide them. "You know where we're going?"

Jing paused, muffling another sneeze, and growled out a curse. That surprised the albatross, because he'd rarely known Jing to use language such as that; he resisted the parental inclination of him to inquire just _where_ Jing had picked _that_ descriptive comparison up.

"Yes, Kir," Jing replied, sounding slightly grouchy and out of breath.

"Hey," the avian one shot back, "don't take your bein' under the weather out on _me_."

Jing's footsteps halted, and he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't, you're right. I just feel awful right now," his grin was wry and ghostly in the dark, "just like you said I would. Let's just get the Opal and get out of here."

At the door to the study, Jing again had to stop and pick the lock. Kir suspected that it wasn't so much for keeping quiet as for keeping everything intact. Sometimes they left the scene of a heist in a spectacular chase, and sometimes no one even knew of their passing until much later. "So why are you stealin' this now?" Kir questioned idly, watching Jing's nimble fingers mapping out the lock's inner workings without a light. "I mean... with the emperor of Cinzano gone and all, it ain't worth as much as it used to be, right? Or is it worth more now?"

"Not quite that simple, partner," Jing said, and the door swung open with barely a creak. "Bingo!"

Kir had to chuckle silently at that.

"Even though this manor looks big and rich," the Bandit King said, slipping inside and closing the door behind him, "the family's been falling further and further into debt. Because they can't sell the Opal, things are going badly for them."

"Why can't they sell it?"

"Because they'd have to say either they stole it -- which would of course make them criminals," Jing grinned, "or admit that the emperor gave it to them, which would destroy the legend that's been built up around it for all these centuries."

The bird considered this, and commented, "So they can't really do either. What's the third option?" He glanced around the study, but could only make out the vague outline of a large tapestry on the wall, behind the desk. "And where's the Opal? In a safe?"

Jing walked up to the desk, and lit a small oil lamp there. Light blossomed across the tapestry, revealing a room very similar to the one they stood in. "In here."

"Behind the tapestry?"

"_In_ the tapestry, partner."

Kir scanned the woven image, and finally spotted the rounded gem inside a glass case on the mantle. He looked at the mantle in the room where they stood, and there wasn't any case, and certainly no Opal. "Oy," he muttered, annoyed. "Did you sneeze out some of your brain back there? Just because there's a picture of it, don't mean it's really there! See?" He flew to the fireplace and perched on the edge. "Ain't nothing up here but dust!"

"Keep your voice down," Jing stuck out his tongue at the bird, then had to stop and sneeze yet again. Kir began to feel sorry for the sleeve of the yellow coat. "And watch..."

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, and then reached towards the hanging picture. Yet instead of encountering cloth, his hand went right through the surface. The tapestry changed -- now it showed the study, but with two additional figures, a young man in a blazing coat, and a black albatross on the mantle. The boy in the tapestry crossed the room to the mantle and took down the Opal, and put it in his pocket, and then returned to the position in which he'd originally appeared.

Jing pulled his hand back out of the tapestry as Kir stared. "W-what was that?"

"Living tapestry," the thief replied, backing away from the desk to regard it. The image had gone back to an empty study, with one exception -- the glass case was empty. Jing put his hand into his pocket, and pulled from it the Opal of Orancio, glowing a deep orange hue. Kir's eyes bugged out.

"J-j-jing! How'd you do that?"

"_That's_ why I sat out there in the rain all night, partner," Jing smiled. From his pocket, he pulled a folded note and placed it on the desk.

"What's that?"

"Just a little something to get them back into financial good graces," the Bandit King smirked, slipping the Opal into his bag. "Something that will keep their secret safe, and not ruin the emperor's legend either."

"How come you always think about stuff like that, Jing?" Kir questioned, as they left the study and climbed back out the window. "You're always tryin' to keep people happy, make sure they got a good thing out of it."

"Well," the young man said, pausing with his feet dangling over the edge. "Maybe... maybe I hope that some day, someone'll do the same for me."

The albatross didn't say so aloud, but he hoped so too.

---

Notes:

**Orancio** & **Cinzano** - Cinzano Orancio is an orange flavored vermouth. Usually served on the rocks, sometimes with soda or Sprite, but also used in cocktails. 14.8 (29 proof) 


	20. In Sickness, In Health

In Sickness, In Health  
_(Theme #25 - Unsweetened Tea)_

It was unusual for them to stay in a town so close to one they'd recently stolen from, but Kir had insisted and then gone ahead and found them a small inn out on the edge of Alebrije which hopefully would not draw too much attention. Jing hadn't protested; in fact, other than obediently handing over the correct amount of gold coins to pay for the room, he hadn't done much of anything except follow his companion's lead.

Although he'd originally teased Jing about getting sick from staying out in the rain, Kir now felt rather sorry for the youth. His grey eyes, normally bright with anticipation for their next heist, were lackluster. The albatross urged him into the bed and tucked the blankets around him.

"Looks like you were right after all, partner," Jing mumbled, his voice hoarse from coughing.

Kir shook his head, disregarding the admission. "Yeah, well... it happens from time to time. Don't worry about it. You'll be better in no time."

"Hope so," Jing sighed, closing his eyes and drawing the blanket under his chin.

---

Kir slept for an hour or so, waking in the dark room to the rustling of sheets and blankets and found that Jing had kicked off the blankets and sheets. The albatross could hear the faint rasp of his breathing; it was disconcerting in its unfamiliarity... Jing rarely got sick, and when he managed to catch something, it was usually mild and passed quickly. He laid a wing alongside his companion's face and was dismayed to feel heat there. He turned on the lights to reveal Jing's normally pale complexion flushed and beaded with perspiration.

"Aw, Jing," Kir fretted, "C'mon, you know how much I worry when you get sick..."

"Too hot," the young man coughed, trying to push away the covers that were no longer there.

"I know," the bird answered, flying to the water basin to dunk a cloth in the tepid water. He couldn't wring it out; wings and talons could only do so much. It dripped as he carried it back to the bed. "Here..."

Grey eyes opened and Jing gave him a sickly attempt at a smile. "Thanks... partner..."

Kir nodded tersely, but stayed close by as his companion drifted in and out of sleep. "I told you, you'd get sick if you sat out there all night in the rain," the albatross muttered, shaking his head in frustration. "You're human, after all..."

But that was part of the problem, Kir suspected. Being the Bandit King often led others into believing he was invincible, untouchable by anything... his enemies, the land, even the weather itself. To most people, the legendary thief wasn't even a person so much as a living myth.

Kir knew better.

Knew underneath the touchless exterior was a young man -- boy, even, for he often seemed so -- who liked chocolate and libraries and missed his mother more than anything in the world. Yet sometimes Kir wondered if Jing himself forgot his own limitations, forgot that he was still human, fell too deep into that persona and got lost in its comforting anonymity. Sometimes, even Kir could admit it had to be tempting.

The black albatross checked to find that Jing's skin had turned clammy and chilled. The damp cloth had grown cold by now, so Kir took it off, leaving it on the side table. "Jing?" he said quietly, but the only response he received was a faint shiver.

"First too hot," Kir grumbled, struggling to pull the tangled sheets back over his restless partner. "Now too cold..."

But the complaint was covering a deeper fear. Most of the time he was able to force it down, keep it buried under sarcasm and gruff fondness directed at his charge. But if anything serious ever happened to Jing, there was little that Kir could do to help him. If Jing broke a leg, he couldn't help him walk. How many times had some weapon been fired at the thief, and Kir simply not able to push him out of the way?

Kir pushed the thoughts away as Jing stirred, shivering under the covers. "... Kir?"

"I'm here, Jing," the albatross answered immediately. "Right here."

Reassured, the young man drifted off again.

---

Jing opened his eyes. His limbs felt heavy and his mind was fogged. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was, seeing only an unfamiliar room. A faint panic seized him. "Kir?"

The bird shook himself awake at the end of the bed. It had been the only place that Jing's restless sleep hadn't disturbed, and Kir hadn't wanted to be rolled on top of. "I'm here," he said automatically, before he'd even had a chance to orient himself.

"Where am I?"

"In Alebrije, at an inn," Kir responded, hopping up to the pillow. He felt for Jing's temperature and then sighed, relieved. "Phew... your fever's come down..."

"Fever?" Jing seemed bewildered, trying to sit up.

Kir stopped him, settling the young man back down. "You've been sick, Jing... don't you remember? We've been here three days..."

Grey eyes showed genuine confusion at the statement, as Jing searched his memory. Faint snatches of images, broken and distorted by fever, drifted to mind. "I... I think so. You were taking care of me..."

"Yeah."

Jing smiled wearily. "You always take care of me."

Kir cleared his throat and pointed to a mug on the bedside table. "If you can sit up, there's some tea in there. It'll make you feel better, an' it'll calm your stomach. I couldn't get you to eat anything, so you're probably hungry..."

"Not really," Jing said, propping himself up against the pillows and taking the cup. He brought it to his lips and took a sip, then tried to push it away with a fierce grimace. "It's bitter!"

"It's unsweetened," Kir corrected, pushing it right back, "seein' how you ain't a kid anymore, I didn't figure I needed to put sugar in your medicine to make you take it."

The statement seemed to strike Jing oddly, and for a moment, he merely stared at the albatross in silence. Then he lowered his gaze and meekly took a second sip, and then a third. When the cup was empty, he put it back on the table and said, "Guess I should have listened to you when you said I'd get sick..."

"You said that once already, but you probably don't remember."

"Oh..." Jing seemed at a loss for conversation. "Thank you, partner."

Kir simply nodded. "I'm glad you're feelin' better. I was worried..." Jing opened his mouth to apologize (he didn't get a single word out, but Kir knew him well enough to know what to expect) so the bird cut him off before he had a chance. "An' no, you can make it up to me by getting some _actual_ sleep, since all you've done is toss and turn for three days."

Mirth crinkled the corners of Jing's mouth, and he nodded. He wasn't about to deny that, despite three days bed rest, he still felt exhausted. Kir settled into his usual place with an equally weary sigh; he hadn't gotten much rest either.

"You're not allowed to get sick again for a while," Kir muttered, nestling closer. "Gonna turn my feathers grey from stress, you know. Next time, I can lounge in bed and _you_ can be nursemaid."

"Okay," Jing agreed complacently, because he saw the grouchy order as something else entirely. "That's fair."

And Kir, who knew Jing would understand, let the subject drop.

---

Notes:

**Alebrije** _Ingredients:_ Ice, 1/2 oz Vodka (Absolut), 1/2 oz Rum (Bacardi), 1/2 oz Amaretto, 1/2 oz Gin, 1/2 oz white Tequila, 2 oz Orange juice, 2 oz Pineapple juice, 1 splash Grenadine. _Mixing instructions:_ First mix some orange juice and pinapple juice in equal parts, and color it with some grenadine (as sweet as you want). This is "conga mix". Fill the glass with ice, add the five licours and mix them, fill the glass with some conga mix and enjoy. _Notes:_ It is a sweet drink that is originally from Acapulco, actually from a club with that name. 


	21. Plea Bargain

Plea Bargain  
_(Theme #23 - Begging)_

Cassis woke to find a dark shape sitting on the edge of her bed. Even two years past the incident, her mind flashed back to the night the Forest Fairy had captured her. Her heart rate quickened for a second until she saw the figure's long coat, turned from yellow to pale silver in the moonlight.

Only Jing would bother sneaking _into_ the building to see her.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

He turned his head to regard her, and his eyes opened. She wondered what he'd been listening to, sitting so still like that. "I wanted to talk to you."

"_Now??_"

He gave her one of his infuriatingly puzzled looks, as though he couldn't understand why she was objecting to being woken up in the middle of the night and hauled off for a discussion. It was entirely possible that he didn't realize it was out of the ordinary, because he was like that. Cassis sighed, gripped the pillow as though contemplating hitting him in the head with it, and finally asked, "Here?"

"No... outside somewhere."

She'd have groaned loudly if she hadn't been worried it'd wake the Aunties down the hall. She was fairly certain they knew Jing visited, often behind their backs. Jing and the Aunties had a tenuous relationship. He still resented them for trying to induct him into the orphanage when his mother had died, now seven years ago. He'd spent the first year of their friendship running away -- always to the same place, his house in the woods. Eventually, the Aunties stopped trying to bring him back. Jing had once mentioned that they'd made a deal, but the details of it remained obscure. All she knew was that Jing 'lived' in his house but generally submitted to the Aunties' care when it was required.

"Where's Kir?" Cassis asked as she got out of bed; the albatross didn't appear to have made the trip tonight. Her toes curled when they hit the cold floor and she hurried over to her shoes first before pulling her jacket on over her nightgown.

"He's at home, sleeping."

That was odd. Usually they were glued at the hip -- or wing, or whatever.

There was an Auntie sitting up in the parlor, which despite the late hour, was not unusual. The women had long since established a rotation so that at least one was always awake, to soothe the inevitable bad dream or monster in the closet that came with caring for young children. Jing's hand was warm as it held her own, leading her silently down the hallway and out the back door.

The night air was chilled. Winter was not far away, and frost had patterned the corners of the windows. Cassis shivered as they went down the empty streets, in and out of the street lamp glows. Balalaika was sleeping peacefully; she wished she was too.

"Jing," she said, tugging on his hand once it was became obvious that he was taking her to the outskirts of the town. "Wait, where are we going?"

She felt more than heard him sigh. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You said that already. About what?"

"Cassis, I..." Jing's steps slowed, but didn't turn to look at her, which she found strange. She touched his shoulder and he stopped, and for the first time she was able to sense a faint desperation in his movements.

"Jing, what's wrong?" She hadn't seen him like this before, except for perhaps brief instances when he didn't know she was watching; edgy, restless.

"Cassis, I have to leave..."

"But you just dragged me out here! What was the point of--" He looked at her, and her words died. His expression was positively haunted, and suddenly she realized that he hadn't just been talking about going back to his house and climbing into bed. "Leave where?" she prompted gently, and as her hand was still in his, she felt the grip tighten.

"I don't know. Anywhere. As long as it's away from here. I can't be in Amarcord anymore..."

Without releasing his hand, the blonde-haired girl guided him to a patch of grass nearby and sat. "It's just the winter," she tried to soothe him. How many times in the last few years had she woken, just like tonight, to find Jing sitting in her room simply needing someone to be nearby, to not be alone in his empty house? "You always hated the winter, remember? But it's just for a few months and when spring comes, you'll--"

"It's not just that," Jing muttered, picking at a few blades of grass with his free hand.

"I... don't--"

"I want you to come with me, Cassis," he interrupted, finally looking up at her, his gaze earnest.

"Come... with you?"

"Leave Amarcord with me. Before winter sets in and we have to wait another year. You can choose where we go, anywhere in Aquavitae you want to see, I'll take you there! You and Kir and I..."

Cassis shook her head, uncertainly, staring at Jing as though he'd been possessed. What had gotten into him? He couldn't be serious... "Jing, that's... what are you talking about? We can't leave the boys..."

"The Aunties will take care of them, Cassis. They're still too young; they're not going to understand. We'll come back, I promise, a year or two--"

Cassis pulled her hand out of his, flabbergasted. "Jing, listen to yourself! A year or two?? We can't just abandon Clove and Pomme and Mint because the Aunties will take care of them. What is wrong with you? We all have to stick together, remember? That's the way it works!"

He stared at her and she could see confusion and hurt in his grey eyes, even in the darkness. He really didn't think like she did, understood things differently in a way that both baffled and attracted her. "Cassis... we're not abandoning them..."

"Then what do you call it?!"

"I want--"

"Jing, you can't always _have_ what you want! I don't care if you want to be the Bandit King! You can't decide other people's lives because it's the way you want them." Her voice hitched a little and she found her eyes smarting. Was she _crying?_ She didn't cry!

"Cassis... it's not like that!" He watched her, but it was hard to watch him. He kept moving so that his face was in shadow, making his expression unreadable. "You're my best friend... I need you..."

She shook her head, trying to draw on conviction, and stood firm. "I can't, Jing. You know that, deep down. I can't leave the boys. _They_ need me. They need you too. Whatever thing you've gotten into your head, it'll go away, it'll--"

"It won't!" His voice raised, accusing, and from the buildings closest to them, a light turned on in an upper window. "Why don't you understand?!"

"Why don't _you_ understand!" she shouted back; more lights flickered on. "You're so selfish, Jing! It's always about you! Think about others for once! Think about what would make _them_ happy! What they would want!"

He got to his feet in a whirl of yellow cloth and stared hard at her, betrayed and angry. "Fine," he hissed. "Stay in Amarcord forever, if that's _what you want_. I don't care! I was wrong, I don't need you around!"

He stalked for the low iron gates which led out of town, and she raised her hand to his retreating back, his name ready on her tongue to call out. _Should I stop him?_ But he was so angry right now, perhaps it would be better to let him cool off, to see him in the morning. They'd both sulk for a while but she'd forgive him. She always did, even when he did such foolish things as trying to steal her a birthday gift.

"See you tomorrow, Jing," she whispered, getting to her feet; the dew had soaked the hem of her nightgown.

---

When morning came and his house was empty, she knew she should have called out to him the night before.


	22. Executive Decision

Executive Decision  
_(Theme #22 - Pain Relief)_

"Quit tryin' to look behind you!" Kir finally snapped, annoyed. "It's takin' me forever to get this cleaned. You look stupid pretendin' to be an owl, anyway."

The young man huffed but obeyed, redirecting his attention to the other side of the room. One arm raised and bent behind his head to give the albatross more room, he sat shirtless and waited for the examination to conclude. "Aren't you done yet?"

Kir muttered something under his breath before replying, "Not yet. This ain't exactly a little scratch, Jing."

Indeed, the gash curved from midway from his left side, gouged halfway between his arm and his waist, across the width of his back, ending just below his right shoulder. It had been pure instinct to turn his right side away (_protect his partner keep him safe don't let him get hurt_) and the move was what had turned the stabbing motion of his enemy into a slash.

"I know that, Kir," the bandit answered, drawing in a sharp breath as the wound was cleaned with warm water. It was frustrating, but the location of it simply made it impossible to tend by himslf, at least properly. That, Jing reflected wryly, and he'd never hear the end of it from the albatross if it got infected.

His shirt rested nearby, almost sliced in two. That was equally frustrating, because Jing lacked certain domestic skills like sewing and, much like cooking, often produced worse results than if he'd just left it alone. He supposed he'd have to take it somewhere to be mended. (Somewhere that didn't ask for names for item pick-up, because there was little else more humiliating than someone finding out the Bandit King could steal stars from the sky but had trouble doing laundry.) His yellow coat had been slashed through as well, but in typical fashion of Noyaux-made material, it had already begun knitting itself back together, and would be whole by morning. It was a shame he couldn't say the same for his skin.

Kir wiped away the rest of the drying blood and passed the cloth forward. "Rinse this out for me, would you?"

"Finally done..." Jing groaned, lowering his arm with a wince. His whole back ached, and he knew it would only be worse come morning. The best he could hope for was a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep--

"The hell I am," Kir said sharply. "It's gettin' cleaned with alcohol now."

"But Kir--!"

"Don't you say nothin' about it! You think I didn't notice?" The albatross' words were short; angry; Jing would have twisted around in shock if that hadn't been a phenominally bad idea given his current injuries. "I don't want you doin' that! I don't want you gettin' hurt because you're trying to shelter _me_! That ain't the way things are supposed to work!"

_Where did all that come from...?_ the thief thought, stunned. "Kir... partner, I was only..."

"You were decidin' what was best for me!"

"I was _protecting you!_"

Kir snapped his beak shut to prevent saying something he'd regret, and instead began sponging alcohol around the edges of the gash. The conversation -- for he refused to think of it as an argument -- was put on a brief hold as Jing hissed and dug his fingers into bed, his posture locking up as the liquid burned and stung its way into the wound. Wiry muscle stood strained against pale skin, but he kept still and let his avian companion work in silence.

Minutes ticked by. It was all Kir could do not to murmur apologies when it was obvious the pain he was causing.

Either of them wanted to be the first to break the tenuous verbal ceasefire. When the albatross laid aside the cloth, his tending completed, Jing remained turned away from him, head bowed, and said nothing.

"Jing," Kir said finally. "I understand... you were just lookin' out for me. You've told me often enough that you don't know what you'd do if something happened to me. But didn't you ever think... maybe I'm scared of losin' you too?"

The youth made a soft sound; perhaps a choked laugh, perhaps an aborted sob. "She was right, you know... truly, I am selfish. I'm sorry, partner."

That was all it took to break the tension between them once again, and both breathed quiet sighs of relief. Jing winced his way into a tolerable sleeping position on his stomach, sacrificing the warmth of the blanket for a light sheet that wasn't wool and thus wouldn't aggravate his injury further. Slowly he began to relax, his eyes drifting half-closed.

"You ain't selfish," Kir said, when he felt sufficient time has passed. Jing, on the edge of sleep, mumbled a reply that made the bird smile. "Your heart is just bigger than most people's. You know I'm not mad, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"An' I appreciate you lookin' out for me."

"Mm-hmm."

"An' I'm going to keep nagging at you whenever you do stupid things."

"Mmm."

"An' I'm puttin' more alcohol on that wound in the morning."

"But--!"

"Shut up and go to sleep, Jing," Kir said fondly, and was obeyed.


	23. Patterns

Patterns  
_(Theme #13 - Introspection)_

The sensation of waking to an empty bed was an unfamiliar one, Kir decided, as he cracked his eyes open sleepily to find the blankets tucked snugly around him, but his human companion conspicuously not present. The room was dark, which meant it wasn't worth trying to start looking around -- he swore his nyctalopia got worse every year -- and so he _listened_ instead.

_Heartbeat. There. In the room. At the window._

"Did I wake you, partner?" Jing's voice sounded from the unlit corner.

"No, you didn't. How'd you know I was awake?" Kir asked wryly.

"Because you snore when you're asleep, and you stopped," the bandit laughed softly in the shadows before adding, "And I can feel you listening. I've always been able to."

"We established back on Day 1 that you are a weird human," the albatross retorted, and moved from the impersonal warmth of the quilt to the much preferred crook of Jing's arm. "What're you doin' up in the middle of the night?"

"Just working on this," Jing answered, resettling into a comfortable position on the bench of the bay window. His fingers picked up an oddly shaped piece of gold, turning it over and over as though memorizing the sharp angles. "Haven't even got one piece to fit together yet. Strange, huh?"

"They call it the Unsolvable Puzzle for a reason, you know."

"So?"

Kir shook his head, watching Jing's nimble hands dart over the smooth, three-dimensional puzzle pieces, as though searching for a hidden means of finding that first crucial interlock. He worked in silence, and since the bird hadn't withdrawn his _listening_ yet, he could hear the calm pace of the thief's heart. _Finally. The quiet will be good for him._

Rare were the nights anymore that Jing seemed so peaceful.

Sitting in the moonlight, enjoying the warmth of his companion's arm, Kir felt himself once more grow drowsy. He stared at the puzzle pieces without really seeing them, his mind wandering. Jing was a lot like a puzzle. He'd started whole, but at some point, had fallen apart. Once the pieces had been separated, the original shape had been lost. People who tried to put him together again often become stumped by the challenge, most of them didn't even know where to begin.

As _unsolvable_ as the object he currently handled.

"What're you thinking about, partner?" Jing murmured questioningly, when his companion had fallen silent yet not resumed his normal sleeping habit.

"Hm? Oh... nothing much," Kir replied. "Just about how things fit together."

The thief smiled in the darkness, and two pieces locked together with a soft _click_.

---

Notes:

Written for K-chan. Kudos for those who get the cross-series reference! The title text come from Paul Simon, the extended text of which is below:

_Up a narrow flight of stairs  
In a narrow little room,  
As I lie upon my bed  
In the early evening gloom.  
Impaled on my wall  
My eyes can dimly see  
The pattern of my life  
And the puzzle that is me.  
From the moment of my birth  
To the instant of my death,  
There are patterns I must follow  
Just as I must breathe each breath.  
Like a rat in a maze  
The path before me lies,  
And the pattern never alters  
Until the rat dies._


	24. Circumstance

Circumstance  
_(Theme #43 - Realization)_

Summer had been reluctant to leave, and all of Amarcord lay basking and drowsy in the late August heat. A light breeze stirred the pennants used to decorate the steepled roofs of Balalaika, but did little to disperse the golden haze that had settled over its inhabitants. Up the hill and tucked cleverly into the back of a forest clearing, a small wooden house was likewise caught in the warm afternoon glow. A small hammock had been moved from inside to stretch between the corner of the house and the oak tree next to it.

"... an' the king... stood up and... bel... belwed..." Kir turned his head as though seeing the word from a different angle would somehow help. "Oy, Jing, what's this one?"

"Bellowed, Kir. It means he yelled really loud."

"... an' the king stood up and _bellowed_, an' told the... kinig... kinit..."

"Knight."

"Why don't they spell it the other way, what's with the k?" the albatross huffed, annoyed.

"It's silent. I don't know why. I didn't make the rules, partner," Jing smiled, one leg dangling off the edge of the hammock so that it rocked with a steady, gentle motion. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the day.

It had come as something of a shock to the child that his new companion, who certainly had been hatched with a full and somewhat abrasive vocabulary, couldn't read a word. Although Kir had tried to brush it off as no big deal, Jing had noticed the furtive glances at the bookcase inside, particularly when the boy hadn't been in the mood to read aloud, and had decided to cure the problem.

"... told the _knight_ that... he could not have... his only _daughter_," Kir's voice reflected a subtle pride at not stumbling over the longer word. "Unless he first capted... cappur... _captured_ the dragon... who had stolen... the queen," he finished triumphantly.

Jing beamed. "You're really doing great, Kir!"

Chapter completed, Kir closed the book and set it aside, propping himself up comfortably on Jing's stomach. "How come you can read so good?" he asked. "Ain't that somethin' you're supposed to learn when you're an adult?"

"Hm? Oh... my mom taught me," Jing replied, putting his hands behind his head.

Kir waited for the inevitable change of subject that came whenever the absent woman was mentioned, but it didn't come. So he tentatively prompted, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She reads a lot. Those are all her books inside."

The albatross couldn't figure out why Jing never bothered to speak of his mother in past tense. It always seemed like he mentioned her casually, as though she'd stepped out to run an errand and would be home before supper. Even though he wasn't well-acquainted with human customs, he was fairly certain that wasn't normal behaviour, but then Jing had never been normal, and in any case it seemed too awkward to ever bring up.

"Well... she picks good stories," he returned in carefully matching tense, and Jing laughed so freely that Kir knew he'd responded correctly.

Conversation dissolved after that into a peaceful lull, marked only by Jing humming a nameless tune. Whatever the melody was, it was obviously the one that the young boy knew and liked the best, because Kir had become duly familiar with it in the three months since he'd hatched. He'd been just about to doze off for an afternoon nap when Jing nudged him and said, "Look, Kir," and pointed to the sky.

Kir raised his head and saw perhaps a half dozen winged forms overhead. The silhouette against the sky, the angle of the wings, he knew them all to well, but instead he just put his head back down and muttered, "Yeah. Great."

Surprise tinted Jing's grey eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Kiiir," Jing said, drawing the bird's name out in a particular way that usually got the feathered one all huffy. "They're albatross like you, aren't they?"

"They're albatross, but they ain't like me. I'm the weird one, not them."

The avian stuck his head under his wing as though ready to sleep, except Kir had never slept like that and Jing knew better. The teasing expression faded from the boy's face and he lifted the covering wing with one hand, peeking beneath to frown at Kir's sulky look. "Hey... I didn't mean to make you mad. I just thought... maybe you'd like to play with your own kind too."

"They don't 'play', and I don't have a 'kind'," Kir muttered. "Only thing we got in common is bein' the same species. Barely."

"Kir..." Jing repeated, picking him up and wrapping his arms around the bird in a hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased. If anything, I should know what it's like to be different when you're supposed to be the same."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think I don't go to school with Cassis and the boys?"

The bird was momentarily thrown by the apparent change in topic, and ventured hesitantly, "I just figured... you didn't go 'cause you didn't like it. Or 'cause you'd be bored, ain't Cassis always sayin' how boring it is...?"

The black-haired boy laughed a little, but shook his head. He pushed aside the material of his shirt and touched the dark, spiral mark on his skin. "No Kir. This is why."

It wasn't as though Kir hadn't seen the mark before, because it was hard to hide something so distinct from someone who shared your house; privacy between them was a relatively unobserved thing. Yet in the scant few months they'd known each other, it simply had never come up as a question between them. Kir had always figured if it was important, Jing would have mentioned it at some point. The albatross examined it for a moment, and then asked, "What's the big deal about it?"

"My mom told me it could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Kir repeated. He considered, and then asked, "Does it have somethin' to do with your arm?"

"I guess so," Jing shrugged. "She just said... to keep me safe, I shouldn't be around people too much."

That struck Kir as a particularly odd thing to tell a child, not that he'd ever experienced parenthood, but in some respects he had come to assume that the mother had been as strange as the son. Feeling a bit better by the admission, at least knowing that Jing understood more than he would have thought, Kir squirmed his way out of the hug and flopped back down on the boy's chest. After a moment, Jing's fingers had moved to the joints where his wings met his body and rubbed gently. The bird had gone through a recent growth spurt in which his wings had gained several inches and were bordering on disproportionate, not only in size but weight, and generally were sore by the end of the day just from casual flight. He never mentioned it, but Jing always seemed to know when they hurt. "I guess we're both the weird ones, huh?"

"Guess so," Jing replied, smiling a little.

"We should definitely stick together then," Kir decided.

"Yes. Yes, we should."

---

Notes:

Title text from Mark Twain:

_We are strange beings, we seem to go free, but we go in chains -- chains of training, custom, convention, association, environment -- in a word, Circumstance --and against these bonds the strongest of us struggle in vain._


	25. Contretemps

Contretemps  
_(Theme #37 - Fortune)_

Jing carefully placed the beryl statue on the stone-carven shelf and tilted his head to regard it. The figure, an eight-legged horse with a flaming mane, glowed softly in the single overhead lamp. Unlike a normal flame, this one burned white, casting dark blue shadows where it hit the stone floor. The figurine in the shifting light seems almost like it was prancing, and the bandit was content to watch it for a moment. He felt a familiar weight settle onto his shoulder and turned his head to brush his cheek against the soft feathers. "Hey."

"You've been in here a while," Kir observed.

"Have I?" Jing replied, knowing very well he had been.

"Basking in your riches, are you?" the albatross teased softly, looking around. The cavern, once used as nothing more than a child's hideout whenever they wanted to avoid the Aunties' nagging, had slowly become a thief's treasury; or a king's coffer.

"Kir?" Jing said, eyes closing as he breathed out in a long sigh, "Are you happy?"

The black avian tilted his head in curiosity. "Eh? I told you, I was just teasing about getting frostbite on my tail feathers--"

"Are you happy?"

Kir's jokes faded and he tugged gently on Jing's collar, trying to pull the young man out of the cavern and out into the sunlight again. _Maybe whatever this mood is will go away, if I can just get his head out of whatever bad place it's found..._ Yet the thief remained unmoved, and after a few seconds, Kir stopped and answered. "Yeah, Jing... sure I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Jing's eyes were distant, and even in the otherwise silent surroundings, his voice was barely audible. "I don't understand."

"What... what don't you understand?"

The movement was so sudden that he almost tumbled off the young man's shoulder, squawking in alarm before he regained his balance just in time to see Jing seize the beryl figurine and draw his arm back, ready to smash it against the granite walls. Kir latched onto his wrist, digging talons into pale skin hard enough to draw blood. "Jing! Jing, what're you doin'?! Stop! **Stop!**"

_Heartbeat._

One. Two.

The thief sagged, lines of tension cut like marionette strings, and Kir didn't dare breathe until the hold loosened and the statue tumbled from his grip, down the side of his coat and came to rest in a shallow puddle. Kir barely spared it a glance; the thought of it being broken had been the farthest thing from his mind.

He was worried something far more precious had just cracked under strain.

"Jing... c'mon..." He unclenched his claws and quelled the morbid fascination to watch as pinprick wells of blood rose to the surface. "Talk to me, okay? Tell me what's wrong..."

"Nothing," the youth mouthed; Kir felt more than heard the reply, but the one that followed was audible. "Nothing is wrong, Kir. Everything is... fine."

And it would have been the most absurd thing, if Kir hadn't known it to be true. "Talk to me, Jing," he urged gently, staying close as the youth sank into a sitting position on the damp floor.

"I'm fine," Jing said raggedly, and the albatross waited, knowing he wasn't done. "You're fine. We are safe."

"Yes."

"We have the things we need for a comfortable life. That which we do not have, we can obtain."

"Yes."

"We see and do things no one else can."

"Yes, Jing."

"We are lucky."

Kir hesitated, because this last statement in the ingrained litany was new and different, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Were they lucky? Jing _did_ possess an uncanny inclination to avoid certain things: booby traps; housework; the inherent suspicion of strangers. And their lifestyle, such as it was, no doubt garnered envy. Who wouldn't want to freedom to live by no rules except ones' own, to travel the world, to have no restrictions? And yet, somehow he'd never considered it _luck_.

If it wasn't luck, what was it? Certainly Jing's life had contained its own _un_lucky moments, and yet... Kir wasn't sure how to describe it. It was never a kind thing, but a child losing a parent was not unheard of. Hadn't they all been orphaned, growing up, and hadn't that very thing put them all into the Aunties' care? And to drift away from childhood friends was neither uncommon nor cruel -- lamentable, perhaps, and in any case there had been no 'drift' so much as a sudden void.

He realized that Jing had gone silent, presumably waiting for his reply, and did his best despite the way the assent seemed unwilling to leave his throat. "... yes, Jing."

For a moment, Kir wondered if that had been the wrong answer, for his companion's expression crumpled. "That is what I do not understand," he whispered, his speech oddly formal -- come to think of it, had been so this whole time. "How dare I want more? What is wrong with me?" He bit his lower lip, staring at the bird as though awaiting salvation... or judgement. "Why is it never enough?"

"There's nothing 'wrong' with you, Jing," Kir said softly. For perhaps only the second or third time in his life he wished he'd been born human instead of avian, because the youth desperately needed a hug, and his wingspan just couldn't compensate. Instead he could only nestle closer, and pray it was sufficient. "It won't be this way forever. You're still lookin' for something, and you always get what you're after in the end, remember? Because you're just that damned persistent." A quirk teased the corner of Jing's mouth and was gone again, but Kir was heartened and continued, "It only feels like it's never enough because... if you didn't have that drive, Jing... you'd be in a really bad way."

_Heartbeat._

One. Two.

"Thank you, Kir," Jing said with raw honesty, and even if he hadn't heard it in his voice, Kir would have known by the use of his name instead of the playful _'partner'_ of lighter moods.

"You're welcome," he said, and once again tugged gently on the yellow coat, and sought a much-needed change of subject. "C'mon, you're getting dirty sitting on the ground. It's been a long day, huh? You think we can go to town and get pie? A whole one this time, because you ate half of my share last time."

"You drank my juice and said you didn't," the thief countered, a weak smile working across his face. He rubbed the dirt from his palms and picked up the beryl statue. "I'm glad it's not broken."

_You mean you're glad you didn't break it,_ Kir thought, _I wouldn't let you do something like that you'd regret, Jing._

But that conversation was done and over, and Kir hoped it was a long time before it came up again.

---

Notes:

**contretemps** n.pl. - An unforeseen event that disrupts the normal course of things; an inopportune occurrence.

Inspired by a quote from Victor Cherbuliez:

_What helps luck is a habit of watching for opportunities, of having a patient but restless mind, of sacrificing one's ease or vanity, or uniting a love of detail to foresight, and of passing through hard times bravely and cheerfully._


	26. Rarity

Rarity  
_(Theme #1 - Cinnamon)_

Kir had been catching faint whiffs of something for a few hours now, but hadn't been able to pinpoint it. That, combined with the fact that Jing didn't seem to be in a hurry to let him know where they were going, nor what they'd steal find when they got there, was getting on the albatross' nerves.

"C'mon, Jing!" he wheedled, "Tell me what the treasure of this place is! And what is that smell? It's so familiar..."

"It's cinnamon, Kir!" laughed the thief. "What's the matter, don't you ever do any baking?"

"Like you're one to talk about cooking," Kir scoffed, for they both knew that Jing -- for all his fighting skills and uncanny luck -- couldn't cook a meal to save his life.

"True," Jing said sheepishly. "All right, all right. You're always so nosy!" The road curved and ahead of them lay a village tucked into the base of the mountains. The scent of cinnamon grew much stronger, and was joined by the smell of freshly baked bread. "There we go... that's Gluehwein."

"Mmm," Kir sighed. "What, do they have an army of happy women, baking away? It smells great!"

"Close," the Bandit King chuckled. "Gluehwein is famous for its cooking and catering. Its citizens are employed as chefs and bakers all over the country."

The albatross thought about that for a moment, then inquired, "It sounds good and all, but why are we going there? What kind of treasure is there in this place?" he snickered. "Someone got a famous cookie recipie you heard about?"

"Not exactly."

"So tell me already!" Kir lifted off his companion's shoulder and flew a lazy circle to stretch his wings. "The treasure, Jing, the treasure!"

"Kir," Jing said, in an oddly subdued tone, "I'm capable of wanting to go somewhere without the intention to steal, you know."

The albatross faltered midair, wincing. _Oh great... really put my beak in it there, didn't I?_ he thought. "I know that, Jing," he said, keeping at eye level. "That... that wasn't what I meant by it! It's just we usually... you know..."

Jing shrugged a little, his hands sliding into his pockets in a way that suggested the subject was a tricky one to navigate -- _as though I hadn't just figured that out,_ Kir thought, sighing internally. "Sorry."

The thief's eyes lifted, surprised at the apology; the bird hadn't said anything _wrong,_ just made an error in assuming, and Jing hadn't intended to give the impression that he was _upset_ about it. "It's okay," he answered. "Besides, I guess you could say this place _does_ have something one of a kind to it."

"Oh?"

"Gluehwein has the best shortbread cookies in the whole world."

"And we're going to get some?"

"Absolutely, partner."

---

**Notes:**

**Gluehwein** (Punch / Party Drink. Optional alcohol.) Ingredients: Red wine, Water, Sugar, Cinnamon, Cloves, Lemon peel 


	27. Double Standard

Double Standard  
_(Theme #33 - Cross-dressing)_

"It's about time, Cassis!" Jing said, hearing the door open. He'd been leaning against the hallway wall next to her door for twenty minutes. Occasionally an Auntie would walk by, which would result in a slight sulky look from him, and infuriatingly knowing winks from them. He turned around, ready to ask what could have possibly taken so long -- and instead stopped mute, and stared. The blonde girl wasn't wearing her usual outfit of shorts and jacket, but a pale blue dress with white trimming. It was simple and knee-length, yet so utterly different from anything she'd ever worn that Jing was at a loss for words.

"Stop staring," she said softly, squirming under his gaze. "The Aunties said I had to wear something nice on my birthday. I can't believe they made me put on this stupid dress..."

"It's not stupid," Jing said wonderingly. "It's not stupid at all. You look really pretty, Cassis."

For one of the few times in her life, Cassis blushed. She twisted her slim fingers in the blue material and cleared her throat. "You're still staring..."

"Sorry," Jing replied automatically, although his eyes lingered on her a moment longer. "Are you ready to go?"

"Where are we going?" the blonde girl questioned. "You haven't told me yet."

"It's a surprise."

Cassis rolled her eyes, following him down the stairs to the main floor of the Aunties' home (oddly, no one ever called it an orphanage; it wasn't until much later in her life that she realized that) and outside. "It's probably not a surprise, you just like keeping secrets. And why can't the boys come?"

Jing flashed her a smile that made her cheeks heat again. "Because this is a _Cassis_ surprise," he announced, but added quickly, "We won't be long, and we're going to spend all day with the boys and the Aunties, just as soon as we get back. We're not leaving them out of anything." With that, he took her hand in his left one, grinning eagerly and tugged her down the cobbled side streets that made up the maze of Balalaika. She thought it was strange that he was so excited, his entire attention focused on her as though she were the only thing he cared about right now. (It made her feel warm inside.) How important could this be, though? She was turning 9 years old, it was nothing spectacular... Jing had been 9 for three months now.

As they slipped through the alleys, she wondered if he was leading her to the iron gates that marked the town's border, but he turned in a different direction and then she realized they were behind the blacksmith's shop. Over the steady _clang-clang-clang_ of an iron hammer, she could hear the blacksmith, Old Bailey, singing some foreign song in his deep baritone.

Cassis fidgeted; she was standing dangerously close to a mud puddle and the Aunties would be livid if she dirtied her new dress or shoes before the day had even gotten started. "Jing? What're you--?"

But he was already rummaging beneath a canvas cover, one leg stuck straight out behind him for balance. She almost giggled, restraining it only because she'd once made the mistake of criticizing Jing's inability to do certain dexterous things due to his lame right hand. On a wager of Frangelico's candy, she'd let him tie one of her hands behind her back for the rest of the day, and been so utterly mortified that she couldn't even tie her shoes that she'd never brought it up again.

Jing had ended up sharing the sweets with her anyway.

He emerged from the canvas looking slightly rumpled and massively triumphant, holding a length of wood that she immediately recognized. It was a baseball bat, the maple wood polished and gleaming until it was a rosy colour. A bow of blue ribbon had been painstakingly tied around the end (she wondered how he'd managed that, and decided it was probably better not to know). Jing held it out to her, his grey eyes shining with pride. "Happy birthday, Cassis."

She slowly took it in her hands, feeling the smooth surface, so buffed and pristine that it almost felt warm. To say she didn't recognize it would have been a lie; Cassis had spent many days leaning on the shop windowsill of Zoksel's Woodworking shop, staring wistfully at the bat that she knew neither she nor the Aunties could ever afford.

That she knew Jing could never afford either.

He was still watching her... yet when she didn't say anything, his smile faltered slightly. When Cassis raised turquoise eyes to look at him, he was dismayed to find that she looked upset. "Cassis...?" he questioned.

"Where did you get this?"

The ashen-eyed boy blinked, because they both knew very well it was one of Zoksel's fine works. And he knew it had been the one she's wanted, how many days had he listened to her daydreaming over how much better she'd do in practice with such a superior bat to the old, used one given to her several years ago?

"You stole it, didn't you?" Cassis accused at his silence. Jing flinched, because in all the times she'd ever yelled at him, or berated him for doing something she didn't approve of, he'd never heard such _disappointment_ in her voice and it couldn't have been more profound than if she'd whacked him with the bat she now held.

"But Cassis--"

The blonde girl didn't seem inclined to let him explain. "I... I can't believe you. _This_ was your big surprise? You just wanted to show off again!"

"No, I--!"

She thrust the bat back at him, and he fumbled one-handed with it, trying not to drop it in the mud. When he looked up, he saw her stalking back out towards the street. "Cassis! It's your birthday present!"

"No it's not!" She whirled to face him, her new dress pinwheeling around her legs. "I don't want it!"

"Yes, you do!" Jing argued, agitated. "You've wanted it for months now! Don't lie! I got it for you _because_ it's what you wanted! I--"

The look she gave him stopped their quarrel. Cassis shook her head, biting her lower lip. "No, Jing," she repeated, softer this time. "Not like that. Not from you. Return it, please. I'm going back to the Aunties' now."

And she left him alone in the alley.

---

Cassis was painfully conscious of Jing's absence during the rest of the day. Clove, Pomme and Mint all looked at her expectantly for an answer, but she just shrugged it off and promised they'd save him some cake. It wasn't until one of the Aunties drew her aside that she gave them a heavily modified account of what had happened earlier; that she and Jing had argued over something, and he was probably off sulking in his house.

Still, as late afternoon deepened into twilight, she couldn't help but begin to worry. Usually Jing would only be this way for a few hours; after that he seemed to shrug off such moods and then treat them as though they'd never happened at all.

_Maybe... I should go and make sure he's all right..._ she thought.

The hike up the hill seemed longer than normal, and when the small house came into view, she could see only a single small lamp burning through the open window. "Jing? Are you okay?"

The door was unlocked (she couldn't remember it ever being otherwise) and Cassis entered hesitantly, knowing where everything was and yet still somehow feeling like an intruder. Her eyes adjusted and she saw Jing resting on the couch in the main room. From the steady rise and fall of his chest, he should have been sleeping, but his eyes were open and watching her.

The blonde girl approached him cautiously, yet when she drew near, he suddenly rolled onto his side so he was facing away from her. "What do you want?" he muttered, his voice muffled.

"You didn't come back..."

He gave a short, bitter laugh, and replied, "It's rude to show up to a party without a present."

Cassis winced a bit. She gingerly went to sit next to him, but when she put her hand down on the pillow, found that it ws damp. It took her a moment to connect the sensation with its meaning. _He was... crying?_

"Jing..."

"I thought you'd have been happy," he sighed, and turned to face her. In his good hand, she saw that he was clenching the blue ribbon tightly. "That's all I wanted. It's not bad to want that for people. You said so yourself. I don't... I don't have anyone else to make smile..."

She put her arms around him and forgave him by putting the ribbon in her hair.

---

**Notes:**

**Zoksel** (Soft Drink / Soda. Alcoholic.) Ingredients: Beer, Root beer, Lemonade, Coca-Cola, 7-Up, Creme de Cassis, Lemon


	28. Pleasant Diversion

Pleasant Diversion_  
(Theme _#35 - "Why me...?")

---

"You _what??_"

Kir shuffled on the tabletop, but had yet to acquire the grace to look sheepish. If anything, the gleam in his eye looked too much like triumph for the thief to believe the contrite expression. "C'mon, it's not like you're doing anything else tonight! You said we couldn't swipe that painting until tomorrow anyway!"

"That's not the point, Kir! You set me up!"

"On a _date_, Jing!" The avian heaved a theatric sigh of sufferance, as though putting up with his companion's reaction was merely part of a long, tedious routine. "You make it sound like I organized an ambush or something!"

"It practically is!" Jing threw his arms in the air, then dropped his head to the table with a _thunk_. There was no use arguing with Kir, especially when it came to interactions with the opposite sex. Reason tended to fly out the window in such cases.

"It's not a double date if only one of us shows up! What was I supposed to do about the other sister?"

"Date them both at the same time like you normally do!" The youth raised his head slightly to stick his tongue out in a display of childish ire, fingers drumming on the tabletop. Still, his natural curiosity got the better of him in the end. "What did you tell her, anyway?"

Kir laughed, having known he would win. "I didn't tell them anything specific, wise guy, just that we'd be happy to take them to the carnival that's in town."

Jing raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And they said yes?"

"Well..." Kir lifted his wings in a shrug, "I _might_ have told her you were a nice guy, single... pretty cute." When the thief spluttered and flushed red, Kir added helpfully, "Well, you _are_ kind of cute."

"KIR!"

"Not really my type, though -- whoops!" He leapt into the air to dodge as Jing made a grab for the albatross, his face flaming in embarrassment. "Hahaha, too slow!" Hovering just above the young man's reach, he smirked. "What's the matter, Jing? Can't keep up wi-- UPMH!!"

A throw pillow struck him with uncanny accuracy, hard enough to knock him backwards out of the air. Yet the albatross didn't flail, and a second later bounced safely onto the bed. Even though the slightest mistake on Jing's part could have sent him to the floor or the wall and potentially caused harm, he never worried about it. That was just the way things were with them.

From under the pillow still atop him, Kir felt the bed dip as Jing lay down next to him. The albatross kicked the cushion away, looking hopefully up at the young man. "Why do you want me to go?" Jing asked, stretching out with a lazy roll of his shoulders.

"I told you already! Those girls wanted someone to go with them to the carnival."

"Why do _you_ want me to go?"

Kir paused, then gave a wry chuckle. Jing often acted like a child but thought like someone far older than his years, and it peeked out in times like this. "'Cause I want you to have some fun, that's all. You work too hard," he teased, which made them both laugh because they loved what they did.

"Okay, partner," the grey-eyed youth answered, both agreeing and giving in to the bird's plan, and Kir was glad.

---

The Aperitif Carnival was a travelling circus, moving through Aquavitae year round, stopping at locales both common and exotic. Jing had been there once before as a child, having stumbled across it after getting lost while returning from a childish heist (upon remembrance, he wasn't sure he could really call them such). It was through the Aperitif that he'd heard rumours of many treasures, and in later years with Kir had even tracked some of them down. To see the familiar white and rainbow tents and flags brought back memories of kind strangers with their booming laughter and songs in a language he didn't know but tried to sing along with. They were nomads, these people, like the Sambuca dancers of Advocaat and the Shiwala people who'd come from beyond Aquavitae's eastern border generations ago.

"So how are we supposed to find them?" Jing inquired, as they climbed the hill up to the plateau. The carnival always set up outside of town, in a field or open space.

"They said they were gonna meet us at the front gate -- I see them!" Kir crowed happily, spreading his wings and swooping off Jing's shoulder. There were indeed two female figures waiting next to the entry arch. One of them spotted Kir and waved in greeting. _This is just for fun,_ the thief reminded himself. _So have fun, a good day for all of us._

The girls were clearly sisters, brunettes and with open, friendly smiles. He guessed there were a few years between them, although not many. They both wore pretty cotton sundresses and the younger one had her hair up in pigtails. Kir seemed more than willing to take care of the introductions. "Jing, this is Desiree and her big sister, Cielo. Ladies, this is my partner I was tellin' you about, Jing... and you remember my name, right?"

The younger of the two, Desiree, giggled. "Of course! How could we forget, Kir? It's nice to meet you, Jing!" she chirped brightly, and he found himself smiling almost immediately.

Cielo added politely, "It's nice of you both to join us. Sister and I usually have to go by ourselves, and that's just not as fun."

"We're happy to," Jing responded, the words coming with surprising ease. They didn't feel like lies or even stretched truths. As if somehow sensing that, Kir looked over and gave him a big grin.

"Shall we?"

---

Kir and Desiree kept up an animated conversation as they entered the carnival grounds and stopped to buy tickets. Although the girls protested shyly, the costs were easily taken from Jing's knapsack without a second thought by the thief.

"Thank you," Cielo said modestly. In contrast with her sister, currently laughing at some joke Kir was telling (Jing prayed it wasn't a dirty one) she seemed more subdued.

"It's really no problem," he assured her, wondering if that was the cause of her quietude. Truthfully, he would have felt far more awkward if they'd tried to pay for themselves, if only because he was certain they had jobs and he came by his funds by less than honourable means.

"So what brings you to Perroquet, Jing?" she inquired, sidestepping a trio of hyper children beelining for the cotton candy stand. "You're not from around here, are you?"

_I came to steal a priceless painting of the Patatús,_ Jing thought. _But it can only be revealed during a full moon, and that's not until tomorrow night._ Somehow he doubted that would go over well, so he settled with an ambiguous, "Kir and I just travel a lot, and decided to take a break for a few days. And no, we're not from around here."

She studied him for a moment. "You have a bit of an accent," she admitted. "East of here?"

"Amarcord," he confirmed.

Cielo's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "Amarcord?" After a moment she seemed to place the name and her confusion deepened. "I thought only pumpkins came out of Amarcord?"

Jing laughed, unexpectedly. The silly little colloqulism apparently wasn't just a regional thing. "Pumpkins and the occasional person," he chuckled. Cielo seemed startled at first by his reaction, and then she too began to laugh, until the pair of them had to stop walking before they couldn't see for the mirth.

"Oy," Kir called back, looking confused himself. "What's so funny?"

"What's so funny, Sister?" Desiree asked at the same time, and after a startled moment, they too began to laugh together.

---

"I'm sorry I was so reserved earlier," Cielo apologized. Kir and Desiree had wandered off by themselves, intending (as Kir had claimed) to win one of every prize in the midway. "It's just that I don't know you, and I always need to look out for my sister. Sometimes her judgement worries me, although she's a lot better than she used to be."

"Don't worry about it," Jing answered. "And as for your sister, Kir's harmless, I swear."

"You both seem like good people," she agreed. "Are you planning on staying in the area for much longer? Maybe we could... meet up again, for ice cream or something..."

She seemed suddenly shy, and Jing wanted to say yes. But by this time tomorrow, he'd be on the run again, treasure in hand, and depending on the details of the heist he might not be able to return to the area until memory of the Bandit King faded a bit. "I... don't think that would work out very well," he said slowly. At her embarrassed look, he was quick to clarify, "But it has nothing to do with you or your sister! It's just... we're unpredictable, Kir and I. And we're not very reliable to anyone besides each other. So I don't want to say yes and then not follow through, you know?"

"So why can't you say yes and then follow through?"

It was Jing's turn to look away, unsure of what he could say that would sound both truthful and yet not reveal anything incriminating. "Because I haven't figured out how to make it work like that. Sorry, Cielo."

She looked taken aback by the sudden end of the conversation, and for a moment he wondered if he'd been to abrupt. He was just about to apologize when she seemed to shake it off, flashing him another smile (slightly less enthusiastic, but not seeming offended. "It's all right. I shouldn't have pried about it. Let's just forget it, okay? Want to try one of these midway games?"

"Sure," he said, glad for the change of topic. "I'll win you a bear, if you want."

"Make it an orange one and it's a deal."

---

At the end of the night, the four of them took a seat on the grassy hill, listening to the music played by the carnival masters and watching the fireworks display in the sky. Brightly clad dancers clapped and sang along with the colourful explosions, making it into a story with hundred-foot visual effects. When it was over, they all clapped their appreciation.

"That was wonderful," Desiree said, getting to her feet and stretching. Kir, who had been sitting rather comfortably in her lap, pouted and shifted over to Jing's shoulder, who hadn't realized he'd missed such a familiar thing until then.

"Yes, thank you," Cielo affirmed with a smile.

"It was our pleasure," Kir crooned, mostly at Desiree, causing her to blush and giggle again.

They walked the girls to the gate, where Cielo neatly intercepted Kir's attempt at kissing Desiree goodnight with the stuffed orange bear. He managed not to spit out a mouthful of fur until after the girls had disappeared over the hill.

"Ugh," he groaned. "With the _bear_, no less. Couldn't she have used something else?" He glanced at Jing, who was absently reading the carnival's posted schedule for the coming few months. "Well?"

"Well?" Jing echoed.

"Did you have fun?"

The thief chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, a gesture which didn't bode well. But then he smiled and replied, "Sure, Kir. I had fun."

---

The painting of Patatús was not stolen the following night.

---

**Notes:**

**Cielo** _Ingredients:_ 1 1/4 oz Vodka (Skyy), 3/4 oz Creme de Cassis, 2 dashes Peychaud bitters, Juice of 1/2 Lime, Ginger ale _Mixing instructions:_ Build in an ice-filled collins glass. Top with ginger ale. Garnish with a wedge of lime. Created by Tony Abou-Ganim of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas.

**Desiree** _Ingredients:_ 5 oz Creme de Cassis, 1 oz Stoli Vodka _Mixing instructions:_ Serve on the rocks. Optional garnish: lemon or lime twist. Great alternative to a Martini.

**Patatús** _Ingredients:_ 1/2 jigger Amaretto, 1/2 jigger Curacao, 2 jiggers Añejo rum, 6 oz Orange juice, 1 splash Grenadine. _Mixing instructions:_ Blend Amaretto, Rum and Curacao then pour in a glass with ice. Add orange juice, then splash with grenadine.

**Perroquet** _Ingredients:_ 1 1/2 oz Pernod, 1 dash Mint syrup, Water _Mixing instructions:_ Pour over ice cubes in a highball glass. Fill with cold water and stir well.


	29. Desideratum

Desideratum_  
(Theme _#48 - "Say something!")

---

_"We'll talk later."_

There was, Kir had decided, no positive way to take that, no slim hope that it would pass without notice. As they'd walked away from the White Night Desert, away from Sugar and Grenadine and the treasures of the Millennium Stew, the thief had remained silent, leaving Kir to fly along a half-length behind him, wincing at the unspoken barrier between them.

Six hours later, Jing still hadn't said a word, and the longer the silence dragged on, the worse Kir felt.

His decision, to leave Jing and go after Sugar, had been made in the heat of the moment. Looking back, he realized it was stupid to think that Jing would've cared more about the treasure than the sisters they were helping, and for the life of him, the albatross couldn't understand why he'd thought otherwise. Nothing he knew about Jing -- and he liked to think he knew the youth better than anyone -- would suggest that he'd do such a callous thing as leave a girl to die.

But Sugar had made things different. Because he'd liked Sugar, differently than the girls they met up with, different even than Fino and Mimosa.

That didn't change the fact that he'd run out on his partner when he'd been needed, and the stony silence between them now was proof of that. Several times Kir had tried to speak up; to apologize, to offer reasons, to say _anything_ to bridge the sudden gap. Each time the words had gotten stuck in his throat, leaving him unable to say a single thing.

Jing must be furious at him, he thought bleakly. Kir hadn't meant to abandon him, that was the last thing he'd wanted--

"Was it what you wanted?"

The thief's voice nearly dropped him out of the air in shock and Kir wondered, aghast, when Jing had acquired the ability to read minds. Then he realized that the thief wasn't even looking at him, no longer walking but still facing away, as though he'd reached a point on the grassy path that said, 'Stop here and discuss'.

"W-what?" the albatross stammered slightly.

"Sugar," Jing said slowly. "Was she, what it is you've wanted all this time?"

Kir floundered for an answer, unsure of what line of questioning Jing was actually pursuing. Wanted what? Wanted how? What answer was Jing looking for? On the spot and confused, he could only attempt clarification. "Jing, I... I ain't sure what..."

The young man turned to face him, grey eyes filled with sorrow despite the thin mask of defiance trying to cover it. "A girl like Sugar," he said. "You always flirt with any girls we meet, Kir, but this wasn't like those times. You weren't acting like you usually do. So I'm asking if all this time, you've been looking for someone like her to stay with because that's what you want. And if it is, then just say so. Then I'll know that's what you're looking for, and what'll happen when you find it. If you're going to leave, I want to at least be ready for it. As your partner, I... I think I've earned that much."

Kir stared, feeling oddly like the world had just fallen out from under him. This wasn't what he'd expected. A few harsh words, a cutting remark or two, even disappointment he could understand. This was something else entirely, and the albatross was beginning to realize he'd screwed up on a level he hadn't even imagined. "Jing... no, that ain't... it's not like... but Sugar _needed_ me--"

"_**I** needed you!_" Jing shouted, unrestrained emotion roughening his voice, making Kir flinch. "And if that's not enough, then... then..." His voice dropped to a hollow echo of its former volume. "Then I just need to _know_. You were there one minute and the next you were gone! I didn't even get a chance to..."

The albatross hadn't seen Jing look so upset in a long time as the youth finished, "It was just like with _her_, Kir. I never got to say goodbye to her either."

_Your mother,_ Kir finished silently, feeling more awful than he'd ever felt. All this time he'd thought Jing was angry at him, using silence and distance to punish his flighty loyalty. When in truth, he'd been hurt... believing that Kir had indeed chosen Sugar over his partner, with no intention to return. It seemed doubly cruel because Kir knew that was Jing's great fear... to be left alone again.

_Was it what you wanted?_

And yet Kir didn't know how to answer. He couldn't deny that Sugar had been different. Why did he write Fino in Pompier, looking forward to the next time they'd be that far north? Why did he keep Mimosa's castanets in Jing's knapsack, wondering if the Ocarina of the Moon really kept two people together? What _was_ he looking for?

Jing was watching him silently, wrapping the last remnants of strength around him like a protective shield. Yet Kir saw how fragile that shield was, and had no desire to break through it. Not now, or ever.

"_You_ need me," Kir echoed softly. "That's enough. That's enough, Jing."

The thief's stance softened, all acts forgiven in an instant, and Kir took his usual perch on the youth's shoulder. He wished he could shake the feeling of uncertainty that followed him for the rest of the day.


	30. Rise By Sin

Rise By Sin_  
(Theme _#34 - Seven Deadly Sins)

---

"--nd if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have gotten thrown out!"

"It's not my fault! She was just sitting there, looking lonely! And bored! Like she needed company!"

"She was waiting for her _husband!_ Who, by the way, was the innkeeper who let us have the room in the first place!"

"Well, I know that _now_!"

"AFTER WE GOT THROWN OUT! If you could have possibly used a little _tact_, we--"

"What do you care?! It's not like you were interested in any of them!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

"JUST BECAUSE THEY WON'T LIKE YOU--!"

"THEY DON'T LIKE YOU EITHER!"

The shouting match came to an abrupt halt, leaving the two companions glaring at each other, each trying to catch their breath and rein in their tempers. That had been an unspoken line crossed, and they both knew it. They were angry for different reasons, both showing signs of stress from several less-than-simplistic heists recently. For Jing, it was frustrating to have Kir's flirtations result in the disruption of a peaceful evening. And regardless of their anonymity in that town, the thief found himself acutely embarrassed by having to haul his half-sloshed partner away from a group of chatting bar wenches.

For Kir's part, he couldn't have known that the proprietor's wife was sitting among said women. And even if he _had_ known, to flirt with all the ladies except one would have just been tacky. Besides, when had Jing become so sour? Normally he laughed at the albatross' antics. Wherever this foul mood had come from, he didn't think he deserved to be the target of it. Besides, that innkeeper was just over-sensitive... right?

"You don't have to make things difficult everywhere we go," Jing said tightly, yet this time without raising his voice. "If you showed a little restraint--"

"If I showed a little restraint," Kir mocked. "Like you don't act the prude for both of us as it is. I can't wait for the day you finally grow up, Jing, so I can stop babysittin' you."

The cutting remark ended the exchange, and the thief's hands balled into fists. Not with the intention of striking out -- no matter how angry, he'd never raise a hand to his partner -- but as a physical effort to keep his mouth shut. "I'm going ahead to Blue Mountain," Jing said, with brittle coldness in his voice. "As long as we're still planning to take the DeRosier Crown."

"Whatever," Kir waved the information aside uncaringly. "We'll meet at that hotel with the funny roof. Seeya later, Jing."

And with that, he spread his wings and soared out of sight.

---

The walk to Blue Mountain was quiet, taking him along a narrow, two-wheel wagon path between fields. The wind had picked up, making the long grass rustle as it swayed, and the sound was reminiscent of feathered wings. Jing drove his hands deeper into the pockets of his orange coat and tried to ignore it.

---

The hotel with the funny roof, as Kir had put it, was one of the central features to Blue Mountain, a landmark of sorts. It was a three-tiered chalet, the sharp roof peak rising high above the other buildings, called the Cardinal Hotel. They'd read about it, although he couldn't remember where, and decided that if they ever were in the area they would make sure to spend at least one night there. When the DeRosier Crown had surfaced from the black market, Jing had decided to settle two accounts at once (he never used the phrasing of killing birds with stones) and Kir had agreed. Now the would-be pleasant diversion had become nothing more than a surly spot to reconvene and he felt disappointed by the ruined experience.

When it came into view, he scanned the area, but Kir was nowhere to be found. He sighed, his steps slowing as he approached the building. The walk had cooled his temper considerably, and he no longer felt angry. He was regretting what he'd said and without the adrenaline of the argument behind him, Kir's words stung bitterly. Did the albatross really consider Jing no more than a charge to be looked after? He knew Kir had never treated him like that, but words hurled in anger were sharp because they were often with truthful barbs.

"Why hello there!" A jovial voice drew him from his thoughts. Jing looked around until he saw a grey-bearded man in a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned. "Looking for a room, young man?"

Despite his very recent and unpleasant encounter with another innkeeper, Jing found this one to be much more welcoming. How he knew this man was the hotel's manager, he didn't know; it was just something he was certain of, and had always trusted such instinct. "I will be," he said, approaching the half-door where the man leaned in relaxed fashion. "I'm waiting for someone first."

"A lovely lady?" the man smiled, "Perhaps to share the Valentine suite?"

Jing turned a shade of red typically reserved for produce and the man laughed heartily. _As if Kir isn't mad at me enough already,_ the thief thought, shaking his head in denial. "No... I'm afraid my friend doesn't find me quite his type."

"Ahh, of course. Well, no harm in asking, isn't that right? Ever been to Blue Mountain before?"

"No sir," Jing replied, leaning against the wall tiredly.

The innkeeper regarded the young man for a moment, and then offered, "There's a bench just around the corner there, if you want to sit until your friend arrives. Or you can rent the room and meet him inside?"

"He'll be here soon," Jing responded. "But I think I'll sit anyway."

"Good show," the man said. "Name's Anẽjo. Just let me know if you need anything, friend."

"Sure," Jing said, dropping onto the wooden bench and setting his knapsack beside him. "Thanks."

_He'll be here soon,_ the young man affirmed to himself, and settled in to wait.

---

Anẽjo wiped his brow with the back of his hand and gave a satisfied stretch. As the owner of Cardinal Hotel, he liked to oversee the dinner menu offered to the guests. On rare nights when his chef called in sick, he was more than happy to oblige the pastime of his younger years and do the cooking himself. Opening the half-door that led to the side street, he leaned out to enjoy the brisk evening air. It was only then that he noticed the orange-coated figure still sitting on the bench.

"You still out here, friend?" he asked rhetorically, mentally counting the hours since he'd first seen the lad. The black-haired youth raised his head slightly, as though he had forgotten he was sitting in a public place, and gave Anẽjo a smile that seemed a little forced.

"Looks that way," he agreed. "Just running a bit behind schedule, that's all."

"Well," Anẽjo said dubiously. "You missed dinner call, but there's plenty left over. I can fix you a plate if you'd like."

He could have sworn he heard the youth's stomach rumble at the offer of food, but he shook his head and answered politely, "Thanks, but I'll hold off on supper until my partner arrives. It wouldn't make sense to trouble you after hours twice."

"You sure, kid?"

The lad gave a another smile, but this one seemed less contrived and more nostalgic. "I'm sure. He'd wait for me, so I'm doing the same."

_Must be a pretty good friend,_ Anẽjo thought, and went to clean up the dishes.

---

When Anẽjo came outside to light the lamps around the entranceway around nine o'clock, he was dismayed to find the young man sitting on the bench, having apparently not moved since his arrival mid-afternoon. He was turning a strange green jewel over and over in his hands, and the innkeeper nearly whistled in awe. That was a pretty expensive looking bauble for such a kid to be carrying around, especially when the rest of him looked like a penniless wanderer. Harmless and friendly, but not well off.

"Hey kid--" he said, setting down the lamp oil can.

"Jing."

The elder raised an eyebrow, but continued his observation. "--maybe your friend found a different hotel? It doesn't look like he's going to be showing up, you know?"

"He said he'd be here," Jing said resolutely.

"Yeah, sure," Anẽjo replied dubiously, "but you're not going to sit out here because he _might_ show up, are you? Come inside and I'll give you half-rate for a nice room. It's going to turn cold tonight."

The grey-eyed youth smiled in the lamplight; the expression looked somehow empty, but maybe it was just the twilight because the rest of the lamps hadn't been lit. "I'll be all right," he answered, putting the green jewel back into his pocket. "He'd be disappointed if I didn't keep up my end of the bargain and wait."

Anẽjo made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat and picked up the oil again. "If you say so." He finished tending his lights and headed back inside, shaking his head. "Can't tell these young kids nothing anymore."

---

Late that night, Anẽjo woke to darkness. The clock in the lobby was chiming three in the morning, and the room was cold. Yawning and grumbling about how the chill made his joints ache, the innkeeper dragged himself from the comfort of his bed and stoked the fire in the hearth. Turning to go back to bed, he paused by the window, looking down through the frosty patterns detailed on the glass.

He was still there, the orange coat drawn snuggly around him, but still (Anẽjo assumed) awake... unless he had the ability to sleep sitting up. Yet given the lad's determined attitude during the day, he doubted that was the case.

"Crazy kid," he muttered, but he found he had no derision to put behind the words.

---

Morning in Blue Mountain dawned chilled and frosty, and not a breath of wind. It made flying the perfect exercise for keeping warm, and Kir winged his way towards the chalet in good spirits. It turned out that while the proprietor of their former lodgings had been of short temper, a few of the wenches hadn't minded the attention. He'd spent the rest of the night entertaining them with stories and (mostly) mock proposals of marriage before dozing off, lulled by tavern song and good ale.

Now, argument long since forgotten, feeling refreshed and in high spirits, Kir angled downward towards the three-peaked hotel, wondering which of the many windows could belong to Jing's rented room. One of them with an open window, because Jing always left the window open for him when he didn't know what time he was returning. Yet all the windows on the front side of the hotel appeared shut against the cold, and he was about to check the side when he spotted the familiar orange cloth.

"Oi," he called energetically, causing Jing to start and turn his face upwards, shielding his eyes from the early sun. "You're up early!"

The corners of Jing's mouth crinkled in a tired grin, and Kir wondered fleetingly if he hadn't slept well in a strange place. But he dismissed it and landed next to the thief, practically bubbling over with cheer. "Jing, you missed those ladies! Caleigh and Erin... and Grendel the redhead... ah, what a great night! You would've really liked--" He paused, noting that Jing seemed less than enthusiastic about his recount. "What? What's wrong?"

"It's... nothing," Jing said with a reluctant shake of his head before asking hopefully, "Should we rent the room?"

"Eh? What for?" Kir seemed genuinely perplexed. "You only wanted to stay for one night, right? Ain't we gonna get the DeRosier Crown now?"

Jing looked at him blankly for a few seconds, before a watery smile appeared and he ducked his head. "Y-yeah. That's right. Well, let's get going then."

"Sure thing!" Kir crowed, only to be cut off as something hard walloped him in the back of the head. "WHAT THE HELL!?" he screeched, whirling midair to glare at Jing, when he realized the thief had not been the behind the blow. Instead, a bearded old man stood there, brandishing a soup ladle.

"What is wrong with you?!" Anẽjo exclaimed while Jing stood there, dumbfounded. "He waited all night for you to show up! Sat right there on that bench and didn't move, swore up and down you were going to be here any minute, and you're off sleeping around and getting drunk!? Hell, I tried to _give_ him a room and he wouldn't take it! Stayed awake all night! Now you're acting like nothing happened?"

Jing's expression had changed to one of mortification, as though the prior's days events had been something to be kept a secret between them. He'd opened his mouth to protest but Anẽjo hadn't given him a word edgewise. Kir, however, was now the one that looked utterly at a loss. "Jing?" he managed, noticing for the first time that the thief's stance was tired, unrested, and spoke of disappointment. "That ain't true, is it? You didn't... you didn't _really_ stay out here all night waitin' for me... right?"

The sad, uncertain smile was back, and the thief's shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"_Why??_"

"Because you said you'd be here."

All the good cheer went out of Kir in an instant. If it had been anyone else, he'd have challenged it; dismissed it as a dramatic gesture designed to prove a point. But for Jing, it was just normal... to trust someone at their word, even if it proved that a promise wasn't going to be kept. Anẽjo crossed his arms, deeming the soup ladle no longer needed now that Kir had realized his mistake. The albatross glanced between them, painfully aware of the faux pas he now knew he'd committed.

"I-I'm... sorry, Jing," he mumbled. "I wasn't thinking an'... I should've done what I said I would... and..."

"It's okay," the thief said quietly, picking up his knapsack and slinging it over his shoulder. "I don't mind... we have a train to catch, don't we? We should get going..."

"But this old guy said you ain't even slept yet!" Kir protested, earning a glower from Anẽjo. "We can get the train tomorrow, can't we?" He looked ashamed as he added, "'Sides, we... wanted to stay here, right? No point in missing out... just 'cause I was stupid... hey, old man, you got a room we can rent?"

Anẽjo heaved a sigh. "Of course. Wouldn't be in business very long if I didn't."

Another smile, this one more genuine and much less sad, brightened Jing's features. "Okay," he said, and Kir knew that one word spoke more than just agreement for the room. "I guess you talked me into it."

"'Bout damn time," Anẽjo muttered.

"Sorry," Kir said again, quieter and sincere as he landed on Jing's shoulder. "For all those things I said before, too."

"I know. I am too. Don't worry about it, partner."

---

Kir watched his companion sleep dreamlessly, feeling the steady rise and fall of Jing's breathing against the bed. Having slumbered the night before, the albatross wasn't tired and that left his thoughts open to wandering. It wasn't the first time he'd done something thoughtless, an error in judgment that had seemed so significant until he'd realized he'd accidentally hurt his partner by it. It wasn't the first time he'd realized Jing would act accepting of the situation on the outside and be crushed on the inside. It had started early; their first months together had been filled with such instances.

He'd thought he was getting better. After eight years, he really had no excuse anymore.

_I can't keep messing up,_ he thought, using the tip of one wing to brush a few stray pieces of hair away from the youth's face. At the touch of feathers, Jing smiled in his sleep but didn't stir. _Ain't right for him to keep getting hurt because of me._ Although Jing never failed to forgive him, somehow that made things worse, as though Kir were shamefully counting on that to balance out his mistakes.

"I'm gonna try harder," he promised quietly. "So keep puttin' up with me until I get it right, got it?"

"Mmhm," Jing murmured; still peacefully asleep, not even knowing what question he'd answered, but Kir felt better.

---

**Notes & References:**

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall - William Shakespeare


End file.
